


Catch Me

by caleyedoscope



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, MAMA!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleyedoscope/pseuds/caleyedoscope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kai is the most wanted criminal in the world. Changmin is the NIS agent dedicated to stopping him, but as a teleporter, Kai isn’t easy to catch. He can’t be caught, and won’t be because underneath the guise of bank robber and jewel thief, Kai is desperately searching for one final person to complete a circle of Twelve that will finally set their broken world right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this edit](http://kai-aura.tumblr.com/post/40047777353). Thank you to A. for being a speedy beta and being generally sweet and kind. Also to an anonymous individual (hopefully you know who you are,) that enabled me to start this and said the idea was not a complete lost cause or waste of time. <3
> 
> Written for kpopbigbang 2013

  
For just having been robbed, Seoul National Bank is unnaturally calm. Even with alarms flashing against Changmin’s retinas, the pristine floors click with the shoes of patrons, and papers shuffle as money and checks are passed from hand to hand: business as usual.  
  
He supposes the presence of the NIS is doing wonders to keep everyone under control; robberies are almost a weekly ordeal nowadays and no one ever sees a thief or gets hurt in the process, so they probably think they don’t need to panic. They probably think it’s just a publicity stunt.  
  
So little they know.  
  
Changmin sighs and goes in search of the branch manager, picking him out easily among the crowds; he’s the only one sweating.  
  
“Agent Shim!” he squeaks, jowls trembling. “You’re here! It’s another of the same, I’m afraid.” He slides a bit on the marble floor as he runs, nearly tripping over his own feet. His shoes look cheap, and when Changmin flicks his gaze to the floor he finds a trail of black scuff marks the bank director has left behind him. Changmin barely holds back a scoff.  
  
“Kai?” he asks, even though it’s unnecessary. Who else robs banks in the middle of the day? Also, if it had been anyone else, Changmin would have caught them by now because they would have had to come out through the front door. Or any door, really.  
  
But not Kai. Kai has no need for doors.  
  
The manager hums and haws, hand shaking as he proffers a piece of paper. It’s much like the stack Changmin has spread out in his office and taped to his walls. Handmade paper tinted a little gray and fraying at the edges, the symbol for the power of Teleportation painted on it in black ink, the lines blotting a little unevenly. “Kai, then,” Changmin acknowledges, and doesn’t even pretend to be surprised. “We’ll need access to your systems, if you don’t mind, and in the future, please leave the evidence where you find it.”  
  
The bank manager winces, showing yellow teeth.  
  
Changmin’s very careful not to touch the paper with his fingers, sliding it into an evidence bag with a handkerchief and then into his jacket pocket. He’ll have Lu Han trace it later.  
  
The security cameras show exactly what Changmin expects to see: Kai, the smug-ass bastard, popping into the vault in a swirl of black smoke, tossing a few safety deposit boxes into a sack, and then hightailing it out before security is even near the vault door. They’re still running down two flights of stairs, Changmin notes, flicking his gaze to another camera. Imbeciles, the lot of them. Honestly, where do banks find these people?  
  
“Scour that vault and get me the names of everyone on duty.” The order is for an agent that had followed him inside the security room. “I’m going back to see if Lu Han can catch wind of anything before it’s too late.”  
  
Changmin’s saluted smartly, just the way he likes, and he leaves feeling assured that everything will be cleaned up just fine.  
  
Kai’s face haunts him during the ride back to headquarters. It smirks out at him from wanted posters and wanted billboards and neon news banners announcing that he’s just nabbed another couple million from the bank. Changmin tries not to think about how the information got past his gag order. One more thing to add to his list of problems; problems that are all caused by Kai.  
  
Kai’s grin glows as people stop on the sidewalks to watch and whisper and shake their heads. Most of them don’t care, so long as it’s not their money, some of them even like it because Kai always gives his haul away. He’s a regular Hong Gil Dong, though Changmin knows for sure Kai keeps three times what he hands out, the selfish bastard, and Changmin really wants to know where he keeps it. What does he buy? Once Changmin catches him—and he will—those are on the list of questions he’s going to ask. Right after he punches Kai in the face.  
  
Yunho’s waiting for him in his office, arms folding across his chest. “Anything?”  
  
“No,” Changmin spits, unable to hide his fury at being thwarted. Again. “Just his calling card, which the idiot of a bank manager contaminated. I wish I could fire him.”  
  
“If you need someone to axe, I just discovered an agent stealing guns. You can fire him for me, if it’ll make you feel better. And then arrest him as well.”  
  
Changmin half smiles. “Maybe. Can I hit him too?”  
  
“No,” Yunho frowns.  
  
Well, two out of three’s not bad. “Deal,” Changmin nods, “but Lu Han first.”  
  
As the resident NIS Telepath, Lu Han has his own office, but it’s buried far from the maze of cubicles so as to afford him peace and quiet. The better his concentration, the easier it is to track down criminals, and when Changmin enters the room, he finds Lu Han with a bloody knife in his hands, meditating.  
  
“That brutal murder in Incheon,” Yunho prompts under his breath. Changmin nods. How could he forget? Despite his experience, the image of that mutilated body is going to haunt him.  
  
Minutes go by, Changmin counting each tick of the clock on the wall. When Lu Han finally cracks his eyes open, he’s blinking one of them rapidly like a speck of dust is caught in between its lids and refuses to come out. “Oh, you’re here.”  
  
He’s sweating a little as he slides the knife back into an evidence envelope and goes to wash his hands, scrubbing off blood that had made its way into his skin and making pink bubbles that drain slowly even after he shuts the water off. He rubs his eyes after, making the one with the speck of dust rim with red before he can see normally.  
  
“Did you find him?” Yunho asks.  
  
“Someone that touched the knife is in Busan,” Lu Han says, running a hand through his hair, “about 180cm, really skinny, blond hair. He was with a girl speaking in French with brown hair and a few centimeters shorter than him with heels. Ugly, caucasian. Not sure if he’s the murderer or not, though, there were a few other people I could feel. I’ll check it later once I’ve gotten my energy back.”  
  
“You’re the best,” Yunho tells him.  
  
A blush rises in Lu Han’s cheeks and Changmin only rolls his eyes once; it’s a grand feat, he thinks. Lu Han’s crush on their boss isn’t a secret, not even to Yunho, and Changmin knows for a fact that there’s a bet in the office as to when Yunho will do something about it. Changmin does not participate in office drama, but if the way Yunho has started to tease back is any indication, it isn’t going to be much longer. Changmin makes a mental note to knock more often.  
  
“What do you have for me?“ Lu Han asks him.  
  
“Kai,” Changmin says, and doesn’t hide his sneer.  
  
Lu Han’s face falls. “Ah.”  
  
“I don’t know how many people touched the paper. The bank manager at least.”  
  
“Changmin’s very upset about it,” Yunho says to Lu Han, in his best conspiratorial voice, “we’ll need to think of a way to pacify him.”  
  
Lu Han’s mouth perks at the corners hopefully. “ _We_?”  
  
“Please keep your flirting out of my bad mood,” Changmin hisses, “and don’t you think you should be a little more perturbed? Millions of dollars are gone and in the hands of a serial criminal.  _Again_.”  
  
“Lu Han will find him,” Yunho says confidently, and his hand rests on Lu Han’s shoulder. Changmin can almost see the shudder that runs down the telepath’s spine, “then we’ll follow him and catch him.”  
  
“Well, we’ll try,” Changmin says, bitterly.  
  
“As many times as it takes,” Yunho corrects, “because we need him. We  _need_  him, Changmin. We’ll chase him to the ends of the earth.”  
  
Changmin casts a glance to the wall opposite them. A grey stone with Lu Han’s mark for telepathy chiseled into it rests there and beside it, places for eleven others once they find them—or in Kai’s case, once they catch him. They need all twelve for the magic of the stones to bind together, and once they have Kai, Lu Han can spend his time searching for the others and the Teleporter can go and fetch them. “We need him,” Changmin echoes, feeling a little distraught and a lot like a failure.  
  
“Go fire that kleptomaniac. Yell at him a bit. I’ll be there soon.”  
  
Changmin accepts the data pad Yunho hands him, scanning the man’s name and picture. The attached footage from their CCTV shows a clear image of the agent breaking into the arms locker and it’s more than incriminating. Changmin grinds his teeth when he sees his favorite AK-47 being loaded into a box. Firing the bastard  _would_  make Changmin feel better.  
  
“I’ll find Kai,” Lu Han promises, “and you’ll be the first to know if I get any sort of reading off the paper.”  
  
The Teleportation symbol haunts Changmin all the way down the hallways. The edges of the triangle are glowing in the same manner as Kai’s face had on the LCD displays, its mark burned forever in Changmin’s mind as something that represents chaos. Maybe even evil. He hates it, and would very much like to hate Kai but  _they need him_ , and Changmin knows that he has to get over it.  
  
And every time Changmin has to admit that to himself, a little part of him dies.  
  
He wants to lock Kai up forever, but there’s no way to keep a teleporter anywhere, even if he blinds them. They’re free or they’re dead, which means the NIS is screwed. How are they going to convince Kai to be on their side? Changmin hopes Yunho has a master plan he’s forgotten to mention because they’re running out of viable options.  
  
Changmin channels his frustrations into a facial expression Yunho calls his “Bad Ass Changmin In Charge Face” and stomps down into the cubicle area where the employees that hope-to-hold-a-gun-and-be-007-but-usually-never-manage-to-be are located. He singles out the man Yunho had mentioned, who looks terribly guilty when Changmin points at him, and growls in his best  _I Am The Boss_  voice, “You! My office. Now.”  
  
Changmin double-checks his belt to be sure he has his handcuffs properly attached and thinks maybe he can do something productive today after all.  
  
  
—  
  
  
The bag of cash and precious gems feels like a hundred pounds, even as Jongin slips into Kyungsoo’s restaurant, skirting the wait staff to head out back. It’s a front, as any good revolutionary headquarters must have, but as Junmyeon reiterates (until his tongue bleeds, Chanyeol always jokes), they’re not technically a revolution.  
  
Kyungsoo sees him first as he heads through the kitchen, and the Earth Stone waves a spoon cheerily. “Saw the news,” he shouts, over the din of pans clanging onto stovetops and chefs announcing completed orders.  
  
Jongin smiles behind the black mask on his face knowing it will reach up to his eyes, and then ducks into a doorway next to the freezer. Junmyeon’s behind a desk, making meticulous notes of something and only looks up when Jongin drops the sack of goods directly in front of him.  
  
“How much?” Junmyeon asks.  
  
“Couple million at least,” Jongin shrugs. “Didn’t want to risk taking more since I hit that bank last week. I’m sure the Shim bastard was only a few minutes behind me.”  
  
An old brick oven is tucked into a corner of Junmyeon’s back office, and Jongin heads towards it now, kicking a lever at its base to shift a few bricks to the side and reveal the lock to their safe. Chanyeol had once tried to keep a fire burning in it to make pizza; he’d only managed to smoke up the restaurant and nearly outed their entire operation because the police and fire rescue had been called. Junmyeon had been so furious he didn’t speak to Chanyeol for a week and sent him to Yifan to do his dirty work for a while. Chanyeol had come back so scarred he didn’t (and still does not) light even a candle with his power while inside the restaurant (at least not without Junmyeon’s say so).  
  
Jongin’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he types the password and then lets a laser beam scan his eye before he’s granted access, and the bricks on the side of the oven grind against each other, rotating to reveal Junmyeon’s carefully organized stash of valuables. Honestly, it’s one of Junmyeon’s better inventions.  
  
He’s currently going through the sack Jongin had brought him, counting the cash and evaluating each gem. Jongin tosses him an inventory book they keep in the safe and Junmyeon begins a painstaking process of marking each item down in their code. Should the book ever be separated from the oven safe and fall into the wrong hands, that information would remain secret; the code is near impossible to break, even Changmin wouldn’t be able to do it. Probably. He’s sort of an enigma, though, and Jongin suspects that the NIS agent is capable of almost anything.  
  
Junmyeon and Jongin catalogue efficiently, as only people that have worked a long while together can. Most of the stones and artifacts he steals are already in velvet-lined cases, and those are stacked off to the sides. They’ve started running out of room, however, and now Jongin places them side by side in pre-made pockets that keep them from moving around and being damaged.  
  
“We can sell the ones you stole a few years back,” Junmyeon says, “you remember? Those diamonds? Yifan thinks he found a buyer in China.”  
  
Jongin nods, digging around a moment before producing the box. It’d been a thrilling job. He’d staked out the Blue House for a few days before teleporting inside and stealing a necklace with several large and exquisitely cut diamonds set in them. It hadn’t taken Junmyeon long to dismantle the piece of jewelry, separating gems and silver (the latter of which he melted down almost immediately), and the diamonds they’d put in the safe to sell once everyone had forgotten about them.  
  
Jongin admires them a moment before setting them aside. He’ll bring them to Yifan’s after he’s done here.  
  
The cash is next, and Jongin packs it meticulously minus the bundle Junmyeon sets aside for Kyungsoo’s supplies. “My rent is due,” Jongin says, holding out a hand expectantly.  
  
Junmyeon snorts, because Jongin lives in Yifan’s house so as to lessen his chances of being caught and Yifan doesn’t charge Jongin rent, but Jongin likes having cash for emergencies (and food and Other Things), so Junmyeon gives him some.  
  
“The orphanage needs some cash or they’ll be out a month of electricity,” Junmyeon says, once Jongin’s tucked a few crisp bills into his pocket. He nods his head towards another wad of cash he’d set aside, “and the hospital Yixing frequents needs money for blood replenishment.”  
  
“I’ll drop them off after I go to Yifan’s,” Jongin says.  
  
There are a few items left in the sack that look like they were pulled from a junkyard. Junmyeon will figure out their worth, though, since clearly being locked in a bank means that they have some sort of value. Jongin sets them in the back next to an oblong black box with a clear top. He stares at it a moment, watching the ten stones, each with a power symbol carved into it, until he sees Yixing’s teardrop-shaped one glow for a moment. Wherever their healer is, he’d just cured someone of something.  
  
“Any leads on Baekhyun?”  
  
Baekhyun is their twelfth power: Light. Under the guise of Kai, Jongin has been Junmyeon and Yifan’s tool for finding the elusive bastard. Jongin’s actually been blamed for a few robberies that Baekhyun had planned, which Jongin doesn’t particularly mind, but being duped over and over has made them all cranky where Baekhyun is concerned. Sometimes, Jongin just wants to kill him but unfortunately he can’t. They _need_  Baekhyun if they want to unite the Twelve Powers and work on fixing their war torn world. It frustrates Jongin to no end that the upstart little shit won’t work with the rest of them.  
  
“Actually,” Junmyeon says, “Yifan thinks he’s found something.”  
  
Jongin hopes it’s a solid lead. He’d love to punch Baekhyun in the face and drag his ass back to Yifan for good.  
  
“Guess I’d better head out, then.”  
  
“Give him this as well.” Junmyeon hands over the remaining cash, and Jongin stows it away carefully. A few years back he’d taken a bit of it as a joke, totally intending to return it later, and Yifan had almost cut out Jongin’s eyes before he realized the Teleporter had only been kidding. Needless to say, a valuable lesson had been learned: Junmyeon always passes along his notes faster than Jongin can teleport—which is pretty damn fast.  
  
“Leave Kyungsoo’s money here, then, if you’re leaving now. I’ll give it to him when he’s done working.”  
  
Jongin fastens his mask back over his face and tugs his cap low over his forehead.  
  
“Be safe,” Junmyeon says. He doesn’t look up from his papers, but his voice is warm, and that means serious. Jongin knows their guardian worries, and he appreciates it to some extent. Junmyeon can be stifling when he wants to be, but he cares, and it’s nice.  
  
It takes seconds to teleport to Yifan’s, as it’s only to the other side of Seoul, and the searing cold that grips him as he passes through nothingness and out to the other side is easily shaken off.  
  
He teleports right into his apartment that’s attached to Yifan’s house. He takes a moment to change, shucking the black clothing that had become sweaty sometime in the last hour, but leaves his mask on as he steps out into the hallway. At any time of day (or night), Yifan could have guests, and it’s best if they don’t know Yifan is friends with Korea’s most wanted criminal. Well, business partners is perhaps a better term…probably a more dangerous one. Not that Yifan needs to appear more dangerous than he already is.  
  
But Yifan’s free when Jongin strolls into his office, suit entirely too crisp to be natural, hair impeccably dyed blond and slicked back. “You’re here,” Yifan says. “I was hoping the rumor of Changmin finally catching you was false.”  
  
“Like he could ever,” Jongin scoffs. “Here. Your part of the haul.”  
  
He rests the cash and a few of the gemstones in front of Yifan. “Have a seat while I count it,” Yifan suggests; Jongin knows he doesn’t have a choice.  
  
“Tell me about the lead you have on Baekhyun,” he says in lieu of sticking out his tongue. It’s hard to resist his impish tendencies, but Yifan’s penchant for bitchiness is never to be underestimated. Sometimes, Jongin wants to tell him: “If you don’t move your face, it’ll stay that way forever,” but then he thinks maybe Yifan’s way past that point and that’s exactly what happened. Yifan has probably been physically unable to smile for years.  
  
“Two thousand and one hundred, two thousand and two hundred—“ Yifan counts, an eyebrow raised.  
  
Jongin huffs.  
  
“Zitao saw him,” Yifan finally says, when he starts packing the money away in a drawer. No doubt it’ll go into the safe that Jongin still hasn’t seen. Yifan’s privacy knows no bounds. “He’s in Beijing.”  
  
“The fuck is Baekhyun doing in China?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Yifan shrugs, “but he’s been there awhile, and Zitao says it looks like he’s not planning to leave any time soon.”  
  
“If I pop up on cameras in China,” which Jongin will, because he can’t turn himself invisible (unfortunately), “Changmin will be on me in a matter of hours.”  
  
“Then we need to distract them. Point their attention to the other side of the world.”  
  
“I’ll call Lu Han. Can you work out the details with Zitao? I’ll need a translator.”  
  
“Just let me know when you want to leave.”  
  
Getting ahold of Lu Han is tricky, but they’ve worked out a system that so far has not gotten them caught, even though Lu Han works in the heart of the NIS. He looks exhausted when Jongin finally meets him at a cafe, but his smile is still brilliant as Lu Han leads them to the back and behind a curtain so Jongin can take his face mask off without having to worry about being caught on camera; Changmin’s face recognition software that gained him entry into the NIS is no joke.  
  
They order tea, silent until it arrives, and as Jongin wraps his hands around the cup, he can’t help but notice that it’s not as warm as Lu Han’s fingers.  
  
“Are you thinking romantic things, Jongin? Your eyes have glazed over.”  
  
“Yifan found Baekhyun,” Jongin says, instead. “He’s in China and I’m going to get him.”  
  
“Changmin will pick up that you’re in China immediately.”  
  
“Which is why we need you to point their attention elsewhere. Across the globe.” Something is wrong with his cup, Jongin thinks, or his nerve endings, because when he takes a sip of his longjing, it burns his tongue. “France,” he suggests, “France is big.”  
  
“Nothing worth while is in France anymore,” Lu Han tells him, “but maybe England!”  
  
“What the fuck would I steal in England if there’s nothing in France?”  
  
“Well, you’re not really stealing anything. But there’s at least something left in England. Changmin will have to spend  _some_  time there instead of no time.”  
  
After the war, Walls had been erected around the cities that remained, blocking out the desolated stretches of ground to lessen the damage done. Asia had been the least affected in the world, though not emerging completely unscathed. Europe had had it the worst, and Lu Han is right in that there really isn’t much of it left standing, at least parts that Kai the Thief would bother visiting. So, since the Americas want Kai more than England (but not as much as Korea), this plan is best. Everything Lu Han plans is usually best, except for perhaps their dates when he and Jongin had been together.  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” Lu Han tells him, winding a finger around a blond curl. “Don’t you worry.”  
  
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Jongin warns. “If they spot me in China before you tell them I’m in England, it’ll blow your cover.”  
  
“Don’t be mean.”  
  
Jongin blows on his tea this time before he takes a sip. “How is Yunho?” he asks.  
  
“Fuck you,” Lu Han returns.  
  
They don’t say much after that.  
  
  
—  
  
  
Lu Han comes into Changmin’s office with hair askew and eye bags for cheeks. He’s smiling, though, and starts to glow when Yunho rests a concerned hand on his shoulder. “I’m terribly exhausted,” the Telepath whines, in a tone of voice that isn’t fooling anyone.  
  
But Yunho indulges him anyway. “Take a day off. What have you found?”  
  
“He’s in England.”  
  
“What is he going to steal? The crown jewels?”  
  
“That’s what I saw,” Lu Han replies breezily.  
  
Changmin blinks. He’d said it as a joke; it’s impossible for Kai to be after England’s crown jewels.  
  
“Can I really have the day off?”  
  
Yunho exchanges a suspicious look with Changmin. Last time he knew, the crown jewels had been lost years ago during the fourth world war and then later confirmed to have been destroyed, the remnants scattered across the globe to those that could afford to buy the pieces.  
  
“What do you think?” Changmin asks, after Lu Han hauls himself out of the office.  
  
“Lu Han sees what he sees,” Yunho responds after a moment, “so either the jewels really are there, or someone’s lying to us.”  
  
It’s never happened before. Lu Han’s always tracked Kai predictably and accurately. Kai’s never purposefully led them astray, which means if he’s doing it now, and Changmin thinks it’s probably not as much of an  _if_  as he wishes, the real question is what exactly is Kai targeting? And where is it?  
  
“What do you want to do?” Changmin asks.  
  
“We’ll just do it the old-fashioned way,” Yunho says. “Use your cameras. And Kyuhyun.”  
  
“What do we do if the problem is  _Lu Han_?” Changmin presses. Worst case scenario, Lu Han’s been lying through his teeth this whole time, and they are not as secure in finding the other ten powers as they had originally thought.  _Actually_ , Changmin thinks, swallowing,  _that’s doomsday levels of bad. Best not to dwell on it._  
  
“Let me worry about Lu Han. You just find Kai.”  
  
—  
  
Cho Kyuhyun is the NIS’ information specialist, the mechanic behind Changmin’s camera system, and general know-it-all. Also, he’s Changmin’s best friend, and after Yunho, is the only other person Changmin can say he implicitly trusts.  
  
Four empty coffee cups litter Kyuhyun’s console, and a fifth is a third of the way gone, still steaming. Kyuhyun’s bent over a display read out, muttering under his breath and doesn’t look up until Changmin clears his throat. “Oh. Hey.” The smile Changmin gets is an exhausted one, and he feels a little bad for what he’s about to ask Kyuhyun to do.  
  
“I need some help.”  
  
“I’m all yours. I’ve had enough red tape for one day.”  
  
Changmin decides not to ask. Sometimes, where Kyuhyun is concerned, it’s best to not. The spare chair squeaks against Changmin’s weight, and he makes a mental note to get more ergonomic furniture for his friend as it’s possibly the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever sat on and that includes the time he accidentally sat on an alligator in the Americas. He’d mistaken it for a mossy log.  
  
“I think Lu Han’s double crossing us,” he starts off, and by the end of his tale, Kyuhyun’s face has darkened.  
  
“Motherfucker.”  
  
“Well, it’s most probable that Kai’s leading us astray. But I’m not allowed to speculate either way. I’m just supposed to find him.”  
  
They enter the parameters together, Changmin’s fingers just as fast as Kyuhyun’s on the keyboards and consoles, and after a few minutes, the system that stretches into cameras all across Asia and North America (the inhabitable parts within the Walled Cities, of course) start to search recorded and current footage from a few days back to the present for any hint of a face that is even remotely similar to Kai’s.  
  
It’ll take awhile, if they even find anything, because Kai’s very good at hiding. So Kyuhyun suggests, slyly, that they look up Lu Han while they’re at it. Yunho doesn’t need to know, after all, and since they’re not doing anything—  
  
“Fine,” Changmin agrees, “but this must remain a secret.”  
  
It doesn’t take long, but Kyuhyun zeroes in on Lu Han’s face in a matter of seconds. He’s out towards Seoul’s Wall in a less wealthy region and half as exhausted as he had looked earlier that morning.  
  
“Peppy bastard.”  
  
Curious, Changmin widens the view a bit until he spots one of their men tailing him. Yunho clearly hadn’t wasted any time. “Well, if we see anything, at least you won’t have to tell Yunho you disobeyed his orders to leave Lu Han alone.”  
  
“So long as the tail remains unnoticed.”  
  
Yunho’s man is one of the best; Changmin recognizes him. But it’s still risky because Lu Han’s been trained to pick upon tails and he’s Telepathic, which makes following him undetected nearly impossible and ten times as dangerous.  
  
Lu Han walks for awhile more, Kyuhyun changing cameras every few feet before Lu Han turns down a street populated by nothing but restaurants. He enters one halfway down the strip that looks moderately respectable for that area of town and Kyuhyun detaches one of the cameras, gliding it above the heads of the citizens and tucking it just underneath the eaves in a perfect position to look through the window.  
  
It’s busy, and Kyuhyun zooms in on some of the food being brought out. “That looks amazing,” he says. “I want to eat there. Immediately.”  
  
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Changmin mutters, but his stomach is grumbling and  _goddamn_  it really does look good. “Where is he?”  
  
Lu Han’s talking to one of the waiters, flirting more like, and it’s only a moment before someone appears from the back and beckons to him.  
  
Cameras floating along the street are commonplace at this point, and Changmin’s sure no one has batted an eyelash at it so far, but cameras going into buildings are rare, and that would raise more than a few eyebrows. Lu Han’s tail would certainly notice it, at the very least, and then Changmin would be in trouble. An angry Yunho is not a Yunho Changmin likes to face.  
  
“Fly around the back,” Changmin suggests. “Maybe there’s a window.”  
  
There isn’t. It’s as closed as the Walled Cities, and Changmin grimaces. Such is his luck.  
  
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Kyuhyun says. “You look like you need a few hours of sleep at the very least.”  
  
It would certainly be nice.  
  
Changmin leaves Kyuhyun to finish his fifth cup of coffee and decides to get some shuteye on the couch he has in his office. He sleeps, dead to the world, for three hours before Kyuhyun comes to wake him. He’s got a sparkle in his eye that’s not caused by caffeine, and Changmin’s instantly alert.  
  
“Found him,” Kyuhyun says, breathlessly. He must have run. “China. In Beijing. His face only popped up for a split second but it’s definitely him.”  
  
Yunho’s just behind Kyuhyun, grinning. “I’m going to call Lu Han back in.”  
  
“No, don’t—we don’t need Lu Han. I can do this.”  
  
“Changmin,” Yunho frowns, “he’s not—“  
  
“Please don’t let your crush get in the way of this. We don’t know who led us astray or why. Let me do this without Lu Han.”  
  
“It’s not a crush,” Yunho protests, pouting, but that’s the end of it. He really does dote on Lu Han, and that he might be a mole is clearly weighing on Yunho. He wants Lu Han to prove himself innocent but catching their elusive thief is more important.  
  
“I’ll get Kai,” Changmin promises, already up and tying his shoes. He’s assembling a list of team members in his head, the type of plan he’ll need, and the Chinese officials he’ll need to warn. “Goddammit, I will  _get him_.”  
  
  
—  
  
  
Junmyeon messages Jongin a few moments after he arrives in Beijing. He teleports into a safe house they have set up near the edge of the city, and he sneezes from the dust; it’s been awhile since he’s visited China. He could have gone straight into Zitao’s apartment, but Yifan had warned him against it—Jongin knows better than to ask why.  
  
Junmyeon tells him that Baekhyun is staying at a super-fancy hotel in the middle of Beijing, packed with people and busy enough to be kind of place Jongin would never consider staying for long periods of time. He knows for sure Changmin’s cameras are littered in the area and the risk of being spotted is enormous, but Jongin doesn’t have a choice. He’ll do almost anything if it means finally getting his hands on Baekhyun.  
  
The bastard.  
  
Zitao’s waiting for Jongin outside, smile as wide as the Pacific as he stumbles over rusty Korean, syllables thick on his tongue as he tries to explain exactly where Baekhyun is and what he’d seen him doing.  
  
“Just take me there,” Jongin suggests, fastening a mask over his face and pulling a hat down low over his eyes. It’s a lot less conspicuous to wear a mask in Beijing (because a lot of people still wear them even though the pollution has lessened considerably), so he feels a lot more comfortable walking around these streets than he does in Seoul. Also, he knows Zitao is good in a fight and will probably be very useful.  
  
The Walled city of Beijing is busy as always; Jongin has to keep himself from teleporting out of the way of at least fifteen bicycles that nearly run him over, instead trusting Zitao to yank him back and forth. It’s more difficult than he thought, and Jongin wonders if maybe he should walk more often. In the back of his mind, he hears Yifan say shrewdly,  _that’ll get you caught faster than you can blink, moron_.  
  
The hotel is as glitzy as as Junmyeon had suggested, complete with crystal chandeliers and velvet drapes: according to Zitao, an eighteenth century European replication. Gaudy as all fuck, is Jongin’s opinion.  
  
They camp out in a cafe across the street and sit at a table by the window. Zitao knows the barista, and they get their first round of beverages free. Zitao orders a cup of hot Dragon Eye Oolong, steam curling out of the spout of the clay pot as he patiently waits for it to steep. It’s an interesting name for tea but Jongin doesn’t ask about it because he knows Zitao’s Korean isn’t good enough to properly explain and Jongin’s Mandarin is limited to hello and goodbye, so he lets Zitao sip happily while they watch.  
  
Zitao orders an iced tea for him, something mild and green that doesn’t have an odd name, and Jongin fits the straw underneath his mask easily so he doesn’t have to take it off.  
  
Before realizing the adept abilities of Changmin’s facial recognition software, there had been a few times when Jongin had sat down to eat at a restaurant or food stall and almost been caught because he’d shown his face. But now he knows better. Jongin and straws and take-out are all very well acquainted. Best friends, even. Like the sort you wish you didn’t have to know but are stuck with forever—or at least until Jongin doesn’t have to hide anymore.  
  
“He doesn’t have an exact schedule,” Zitao says, “but he runs errands every afternoon before dinner. So we’ll see him at some point.”  
  
It’s only after Zitao drinks his second pot of Dragon Eye Oolong that he kicks Jongin’s leg underneath the table and nods towards the hotel. Baekhyun’s walking out, shoulders hunched over underneath an expensive looking jacket though he has his hood up, face half-hidden in the shadow of the fabric. Jongin can imagine the sound of his expensive shoes clicking on the bricks as he ducks around the people streaming down the sidewalks.  
  
“Don’t teleport,” Zitao says, already standing and dropping a few bills to the table.  
  
“I’m not stupid.” People take notice of a person randomly appearing in front of them in a cloud of black smoke, and so do Changmin’s cameras. Jongin’s never been so heedless as to just teleport his way to something or someone, with no regard for the consequences, no matter how desperately he wants Baekhyun caught.  
  
They tail him up the street for a mile, Jongin almost plowing straight into a police officer in his haste and getting his mask ripped off (which is also something that has happened before and also something that had very nearly ended with his blood all over the street).  
  
Baekhyun turns right after another block and up a grand staircase of stone steps: “the City Hall,” Zitao whispers. It’s easy to get in, Jongin staring hard at the ground as they walk past guards, hand clenched onto Zitao’s jacket sleeve so he doesn’t walk into a pole. The floors are bamboo, the decor traditionally Chinese despite the exterior that looks like the former Library of Congress in America. Jongin had seen pictures of it before the war, and it’s clear that the resemblance is deliberate.  
  
The phone in his pocket vibrates, and he pulls it out. Junmyeon.  
  
“What?”  
  
“There’s a distinct possibility Changmin knows you’re not in England.”  
  
Jongin freezes. “ _What_?”  
  
“Yifan was just talking to Lu Han. Apparently he told Yunho you were going after the crown jewels.”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jongin glances back down the staircase nervously.  
  
“What does—are you serious? Jongin, the crown jewels  _don’t exist_  anymore. Did you even take history? Catalyst of the third world war, remember? Someone  _stole_  them.”  
  
Well, maybe he vaguely recalls laughing about it in the back of class somewhere in between blowing spitballs and blowing Sehun. Possibly.  _I mean_ , Jongin scoffs to himself,  _who could seriously think that stealing a few gems would have started the end of the world as people knew it_? Maybe that’s why Changmin and Yunho are so hard on Jongin’s ass all the time.  
  
“So what, they think Lu Han lied to them?”  
  
“We don’t know. Just be prepared.”  
  
“Alright. Thanks for the heads up.”  
  
Leave it to Lu Han to forget to do his homework. Of course, they’d never really lied to Changmin and Yunho, only so they could keep up appearances, but still. Junmyeon will probably rip Jongin a new one once they get back and send him to history cram class, which admittedly, he deserves, especially if Lu Han’s cover is blown.  
  
They speed walk through the building, searching desperately until one of the employees tells them he saw Baekhyun on the fifth floor in the records library. It’s under duress, as Zitao nearly breaks the man’s wrist first, and he probably shouldn’t have, seeing as it’ll most likely be reported, but as long as Jongin can get his hands on Baekhyun, he can teleport him out of here in the blink of an eye.  
  
But of course it’s not that easy. Baekhyun doesn’t have Zitao’s grace, but he’s a good fighter and knows how to use his fists and smaller frame to his advantage, even when Jongin teleports to keeps him from running out of the records room door.  
  
Zitao whacks Baekhyun in the stomach once, twice, and on the third hit, he crumples onto his knees, gasping for air. Zitao holds onto the collar of his shirt, forcing him to remain on the ground and out of sight as Jongin sits in front of him. He doesn’t hear any alarms or panicked voices, so he’s pretty sure the fight had been quick enough to go unheard.  
  
“What do you want?” Baekhyun asks, once he’s regained his breath. He wipes the corner of his mouth like he expects there to be blood dripping from it; there isn’t.  
  
“I don’t want anything. But Yifan would like to talk to you.”  _And possibly beat you up for giving us the slip all these years._  
  
“I’m not interested in joining the Triad.”  
  
“He’s not Triad.” Zitao frowns and tightens his hold on Baekhyun menacingly. Yifan’s sort of Triad, though, Jongin thinks. He certainly acts like it sometimes, though Jongin’s not going to tell Baekhyun that.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Jongin asks instead. Teleporting will sap his strength a little, but he’s moved larger things longer distances and survived. Best to conserve a little energy, especially since he’s going to have to get both Zitao and Baekhyun out because they certainly can’t escort Baekhyun anywhere without raising eyebrows—and Jongin doesn’t want to handle the Light wielder by himself.  
  
“That’s none of your damn business.”  
  
Jongin reaches out and grasps Baekhyun’s wrist hard enough to bruise. He’s a little surprised at how thin it is, Baekhyun’s long fingers twitching underneath Jongin’s force. (They’re delicate, Jongin notices, and definitely prettier than his own hands.) “You will tell me or I will teleport us straight into Yifan’s office.” Yifan wouldn’t be pleased, especially if he had clients or was in a meeting, but desperate times call for desperate measures and Jongin isn’t going to let Baekhyun go. Not this time.  
  
Baekhyun laughs, the sound derisive as his lips curl into a sneer. (They’re very nice lips, Jongin notices, maybe even nicer than Lu Han’s, and he’s kissed Lu Han a lot so Jongin knows. ) “What? Are you going to let me go if I tell you? Please, Jongin. Don’t make an idiot of yourself. Go ahead. Teleport me. I’ll just get out and come right back here.”  
  
“Why?” Jongin insists. “What’s here that you need to find?”  
  
“Honestly,” Baekhyun says, “you don’t know  _anything_. It’s painful to watch. Do some research,  _Kai_. Do you know anything about  _why_  you can teleport? Do you really think there’s only twelve of them? Fuck you for not knowing what you’re walking into. Just—fuck all of you. Do it right.”  
  
“You could help us,” Jongin says. “You could just tell us.”  
  
“I don’t work with incompetent people.”  
  
“Uh, Jongin,” Zitao hisses, “ _problem._  It’s Changmin.” A few choice curses in Mandarin follow.  
  
Jongin lets go of Baekhyun’s wrist in alarm, whirling on his knees to peak out from behind a bookshelf. He can’t see anything but Changmin, gun in hand, standing halfway across the doorway into the room, poised for action. He doesn’t see Jongin, or else Jongin’s sure there’d be gunfire, but Changmin starts to edge across the threshold and there’s a rustle outside the door that means he’s not alone and he’s not the only one with a gun.  
  
 _Shit_ , Jongin thinks.  
  
“Fucking idiots, all of you,” Baekhyun groans. “Did you think to check if anyone was following you when you were following  _me_?”  
  
He’s too loud. The syllables ring in Jongin’s ear even as Changmin takes another three steps to point his gun at Jongin’s face. A hand grasps his, the fingers slight and smooth, and clearly Baekhyun likes the idea of being Changmin’s prisoner a whole lot less than he likes the idea of being Jongin’s. Tao wraps an arm around Jongin’s waist from behind, muscles solid from years of martial arts and living out of the streets.  
  
But Changmin doesn’t give Jongin even a second to think about teleporting. Baekhyun’s fingers are torn out of Jongin’s, his cry painful even as the sound of a gunshot ricochets through the room. Jongin hadn’t realized how warm Baekhyun’s hand had been until it was gone.  
  
“Kai—“ Changmin starts, gun leveling at Baekhyun again. He doesn’t know who Baekhyun is, or he certainly wouldn’t be shooting him, but Jongin knows they’re horribly outnumbered. Baekhyun’s face is screwed up tight, but he still manages to give Jongin a small nod.  _Go._  “Don’t you dare teleport away,” Changmin says, “I will—“  
  
Freezing cold grips him, Tao a deadweight that almost knocks him out before they’re in the middle of the safe house, dust whirling around them, black tendrils of smoke dissipating as Jongin exhales.  
  
“They’re going to shoot him,” Zitao moans. He swears in Mandarin, rubbing his arms to push the chill of teleporting from him. Jongin’s used to it, though he understands the cold—it goes bone deep in a nanosecond.  
  
“They’re not going to kill him,” Jongin says, mentally trying to assure himself of that as well. Where is his phone? He needs to call Junmyeon. “Changmin may not know that Baekhyun has the Light Stone, but he saw us trying to protect him. Changmin’ll keep him around if only to get me to come and rescue him.”  
  
“Suicide,” Zitao says. It’s in Mandarin and Jongin only knows the word because of Lu Han.  
  
“Probably.”  
  
But it’s Baekhyun, and they need him and if Jongin knows Junmyeon (which he does), rescuing him is now paramount to all else.  _Phone, phone, phone_ …oh right, it’s in his pocket. He dials the restaurant’s number after making sure the line is still secure, going through the front desk and the kitchen and then Kyungsoo before Junmyeon picks up on the other end. “What?”  
  
“Changmin has Baekhyun.”  
  
“Then why are you calling me?” Junmyeon asks, “Get him out. Now."

 

\-- 

 

  
Changmin’s men work quickly.  
  
While he keeps a gun pressed to the temple of the boy that had been with Kai, arm wrapped around his front and pressed close to Changmin’s own chest, the NIS guards put up walls to a makeshift hut.  
  
They’d moved to a part of City Hall that security assures Changmin Kai has never before seen, a room mostly vacant in the center now that they’ve shoved all the desks to the side. They’re squished against walls lined with shelves housing scrolls and books and data pads, all chronologically catalogued.  
  
Inside the hut it’s pitch black, Changmin making sure not even a sliver of light can pierce it, and he handcuffs the scrawny boy to the darkest corner, gagging him for good measure. Better not give him a voice to describe where he is when Kai comes. And Changmin’s positive he will. It hadn’t been hard to see the protective stance Kai and his other friend had taken towards the boy as soon as Changmin had pointed a gun in their faces. They wanted him, for whatever reason. They’ll come back to get him and instead Changmin will get Kai. Kai, Changmin thinks, whom he has never seen up close without his mask on, at least, not in person, not until just now. The LED screens don’t do him justice, not at all. His lips look a lot fuller in real life, like a couple of bites will turn them red in a nanosecond and his cheeks soft and formed to fit Changmin’s palm perfectly. It’s easy to imagine the muscles underneath his threadbare clothing and the way his hair would look flopped across a pillow. It’s easy to picture his skin slick with sweat and tongue peaking out of the corner of his mouth and  _what the hell_ , Changmin thinks. He shakes himself. He is not Yunho.  
  
But he does admit, at the darkest bottom of his consciousness, if it means getting Kai on their side, Changmin would sleep with him in a second.  
  
He tells his officers to wait outside, intent on confronting Kai alone, though he knows once Yunho hears, Changmin’s going to be in so much trouble, especially if Kai manages to rescue the boy. But that isn’t going to happen. Changmin is going to make sure that doesn’t happen.  
  
His breath seems to echo in the now-empty room, and if he concentrates, he can hear the boy sucking in air through his nose at a rapid pace. They’d patched up his arm so that the bleeding stopped (at least Changmin hopes it has), but he’s probably in a lot of pain. Changmin feels a little bad about it, but after this is all over, he’ll get the kid some top medical treatment and pay him handsomely for his trouble. He probably has no idea what he’d gotten himself mixed up in anyway and will be better off not ever seeing Kai again.  
  
Changmin ends up waiting an hour before there’s a swish of air, and Kai lands in the center of the room, black smoke dissipating in seconds.  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
Changmin grins, waits for Kai to see the darkness of the hut he can’t teleport into for fear of accidentally ripping into Baekhyun’s body and killing him. The chuckle is hard to contain when he sees comprehension dawn across the thief’s face.  
  
“Lu Han said you were in England.”  
  
Kai bites his lip and Changmin can’t help but notice that he’d been right—it turns red very quick. “Lu Han is easy to trick when it serves my purposes.”  
  
The words only douse half of Changmin’s suspicions concerning their telepath, but he knows as soon as Yunho reads his report, Lu Han will be back in the National Secrets Fold. Their leader trusts too easily, and Changmin wishes he could promote himself and get everything straightened out the way he wants, Lu Han-free.  
  
“Don’t,” Changmin says, as Kai tries to take a step towards the hut.  
  
“You shot him. I hope you bandaged his wounds.”  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
“To get Baekhyun,” Kai returns, like it’s obvious. Maybe it is.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Changmin presses, “Kai…” he trails off. “Jongin,” he corrects, hoping that maybe a real name would make a bigger impact, “we need you. We need you to help us find the other ten stones and bind the Twelve of them together and get this world back on track.”  
  
“I’m just here for Baekhyun,” Kai repeats.  
  
“You could be more powerful with all of the stones.”  
  
“I never said I didn’t want them.”  
  
Changmin falters. Wait, what? “Then what is your problem?”  
  
“You,” Kai says. He’s not looking at Changmin, though, his eyes remaining trained on the hut, clearly trying to peer through the darkness and figure a way to get the boy out. The boy, Changmin thinks, whose name is Baekhyun. It sounds familiar but Changmin can’t quite remember where or when he might have heard it. He hopes one of his men listening outside had enough sense to call the name in to headquarters. Just in case.  
  
“You don’t know me.”  
  
Kai snorts. “Get him out of there.”  
  
“I’m not stupid. You want him, you need to agree to help us. We just want to make a deal.”  
  
“That’s not going to happen.”  
  
“I don’t understand. Why are you so stubborn?”  
  
Kai finally looks at him. His appears sad, more serious than Changmin’s ever seen him, even counting that one time Changmin had managed to blindfold him a few years ago, thinking that would keep him from teleporting. “I’ve already made a deal.”  
  
Changmin tries not show his astonishment. A deal? A deal that implies getting the stones? “With whom?”  
  
“That’s none of your business. They pay me, and I do things for them, which right now, is getting Baekhyun away from you.”  
  
“I didn’t know you could be so stoic,” Changmin says. He’s stalling as his mind races. Does Kai know of the other stones and who has them? Are they talking? Are they seeing each other? He thinks of the other man Kai had been with a few hours ago—had he been one of the Twelve? If so, Changmin’s clearly not as good with intelligence as he advertises. Yunho will have a fit.  
  
Kai had taken another step forward, and in warning, Changmin shoots a bullet by his feet. “I really don’t want to have to shoot you but I will. I swear.”  
  
“I know,” Kai says, and his smirk is back in place. “But that’s never stopped me before, has it?”  
  
He's going to start teleporting. He probably thinks he can knock the hut down if he works hard enough at it, or maybe has remembered a light of some sort that he has on his body and is planning to toss it inside the doorway to be able to see. Changmin lifts his gun; he’ll shoot Kai before he gets near Baekhyun.  
  
But that’s not what happens.  
  
Kai doesn’t move an inch, not a hair, before there’s a glow that encompasses the entire hut; it’s a light Changmin’s intimately familiar with, and it hits him like a punch in the gut. There’s no way he’s winning this, not without divulging secrets Yunho will kill him for revealing, and so Changmin lowers his gun, watching with a sinking stomach as Kai teleports in to get Baekhyun, gripping him tight with a smirk that makes Changmin's blood boil.  
  
“I will catch you,” Changmin swears, “one day.”  
  
“Maybe,” Kai agrees, cradling Baekhyun to him, and then in a poof of black smoke, they (and the light) are gone.  
  
Changmin stares at the spot for a good fifteen minutes before a hand touches his shoulder, pulls the gun from his hands: Yunho.  
  
“He got away?”  
  
Changmin sighs. “Yes. But Yunho,” he turns, gives his commander—his  _friend_ , most importantly—a significant look, “I found the man with the Light Stone.”  
  
Yunho’s smile is brilliant.  
  
  
—  
  
  
Baekhyun has lost far too much blood. Someone—Jongin assumes Changmin—had made a rough bandage, but Baekhyun had been sitting in the dark for a long time and the teleportation from Beijing to Yifan’s house in Seoul hadn’t helped, the rush of blood accompanying the transport pumping out past the bandaging, all over their clothes.  
  
They land in a heap in Yifan’s office, and the Dragon stone is on his feet in a second, ringing for Yixing and ordering Jongin to lift Baekhyun onto the couch. “Changmin shot him,” Jongin explains. The details can wait, as much as Jongin actually does want to tell Yifan about them. Jongin had probably said too much, but they had all known the truth would have to come out at some point in time, and if it means they have Baekhyun, there’s no better time than the present. Jongin’s sick to death of hiding.  
  
Yixing takes far too long to get there, though it’s clear he sprinted from wherever he’d been because he’s breathing hard, sweat dripping off him, and has to down a glass of water before he can focus.  
  
Normally, Jongin would have made a joke about it, but the situation is far too serious. Baekhyun’s pale and getting paler, clutching the wound on the side of his arm tight, but not tight enough to keep blood from slipping out from in between his fingers—those slim, delicate fingers that were so warm a few hours ago and that Jongin can’t erase from his mind.  
  
A chair scrapes across the floor, Yifan only frowning slightly as the wood drags across his dizzyingly patterned carpet, and Yixing plops down in front of Baekhyun. “Try to relax,” he instructs.  
  
Healing is gentle, and although Baekhyun’s face remains pale, the harsh, ragged breathing slowly quiets as the bullet is sucked from his shoulder, the flesh knitting together until the skin is seamless, thick globs of blood sliding off it. Yifan tosses Jongin a damp towel, and he catches them on the white edges, watching as the blood soaks into the cotton.  
  
“I wish I could replenish your blood magically,” Yixing says, “but I need to save my energy, I’m sorry. You’ll survive without transfusion, so I don’t want to use our blood stores on you.”  
  
Baekhyun waves a hand weakly.  
  
“I’m going to run downstairs for an IV. After a few hours, we’ll see if you can handle some juice. Jongin, get him into a bed.”  
  
Yixing floats away, eyes drooping twice as low, and Yifan stares after him a moment, lips pursed thoughtfully before he turns back to Jongin. “He can stay in your room.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Because we can keep it locked tighter than any place else, and you’re the only one that will be able to get in or out.”  
  
Baekhyun snorts, wind puffing against Jongin’s skin. “Don’t underestimate me, bastard. You got me shot. Just because I let you heal me, it doesn’t mean that I’m actually going to stick around and—”  
  
“I don’t care,” Yifan cuts in, cold. “Jongin, get him into your room.”  
  
Lu Han had once made the mistake of assuming that since Jongin teleported everywhere, he didn’t have muscles. Jongin had held him down on a bed for that jibe and not let up until he had proven exactly how well developed his muscles were. Being Kai means constant trouble. He can’t always teleport; sometimes he has to run, and even then, teleporting takes strength to withstand. He has to be in tip-top shape or risk accidentally ripping himself to pieces.  
  
So Baekhyun’s small frame is easy to lift, and he chuckles as Baekhyun snaps his teeth at him, eyes alight with fire. “Cool it,” Jongin mutters, “it’s not like we’re going to torture you or anything.”  
  
“You might as well,” Baekhyun returns smoothly, but he curls up to make it easier for Jongin to hold onto him and only punches his shoulder when he lays Baekhyun down on his bed. He’s glad someone had recently changed the sheets. Minseok, probably.  _Thoughtful bastard_ , Jongin thinks fondly.  
  
“I don’t understand why you’re fighting this.”  
  
“Because you’re all idiots, obviously.”  
  
“I might a little dense,” Jongin admits, “and Yixing may look like he’s constantly on drugs, but Junmyeon’s clever, and Yifan’s a lot smarter than he appears.”  
  
“Not smart enough.”  
  
“For what?” Jongin asks. “This secret information you’re holding above our heads?”  
  
“You’re a lot less annoying when you don’t talk.”  
  
Grumbling to himself, Jongin starts to strip, ignoring Baekhyun’s squawks of  _what are you doing?_  His clothes are saturated in blood, never mind sweat, and what he really wants is a shower. But if he leaves Baekhyun alone, Yifan will never let him hear the end of it, so he settles for a new shirt, new pants, and a wet cloth.  
  
“You’re a jerk,” Baekhyun informs him. “Were you going to offer me a shirt?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Baekhyun frowns, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m going to make your life miserable.”  
  
“You’ve already done that,” Jongin tells him, “that’s a useless threat. But fine. If it will make you shut up.”  
  
Secretly, Jongin feels a little pity for Baekhyun, who’s too weak to wipe at his face with a rag. So Jongin does it for him, ignoring Baekhyun’s hisses as he props him up on the pillows and scrubs away at the dirt and blood stuck to his face and neck. Baekhyun curls into his chest again as Jongin pulls off his shirt to reach his back, and he swallows back a sudden desire to follow the rag with his fingertips and slide against the impossibly pale skin. Baekhyun doesn’t say thank you, but Jongin gets a sense of his gratitude because there’s no more sharp retorts or glares even though the spare clothes are too big, and Jongin doesn’t move away after he’s done dressing Baekhyun. It’s cold, and Baekhyun’s shivering, so Jongin sits there and lets Baekhyun roll himself in blankets and pillow his head on Jongin’s lap and soak in his warmth.  
  
Yixing entering the room with an IV in tow keeps Jongin from doing anything he’d regret (like hold Baekhyun’s hand and stroke those perfect fingers, or pull out the tangles in Baekhyun’s hair and scratch the nape of his neck) despite his previous irritation.  
  
The healer’s gentle as he inserts a needle into Baekhyun’s arm, taping it over carefully and fiddling with the bag of medicine. “Is their any residual pain?” Yixing asks, “I can get some morphine if that’s the case.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You should rest. Junmyeon’s on his way here, and he and Yifan have a lot of questions.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes.  
  
The corners of Yixing’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, his dimple pressing into his cheek, and he pats Baekhyun’s head. “You’ll be just fine,” he says, and then waves at Jongin on his way out.  
  
“You know,” Jongin tries, “eventually you’ll need us. And we’ll need you. Being a bitch about it is only making everything worse. It’s Changmin and Yunho we should be fighting, not each other.”  
  
He thinks he’s been ignored, as Baekhyun doesn’t speak for a good fifteen minutes. But then he says, in a very quiet voice, “I know,” and Jongin feels as though he’s just won a war, victory springing up in his chest and very nearly coming out in a triumphant shout. But he can’t scare Baekhyun away, can’t do anything that would make him take the words back, so he rests a hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder (that’s painfully thin) and leaves it there until the cavalry arrive.  
  
Junmyeon has his serious face on when he walks inside, Yifan just a step behind him. He jerks his head at the door after catching Jongin’s eye, a clear sign that he is to make himself scarce, and Jongin wonders what sort of plan the two of them have cooked up in order to get Baekhyun to talk. Jongin finds himself hoping it isn’t torture; Junmyeon can be very creative with his power over water. Jongin wonders if maybe he can tip Junmyeon off to Baekhyun’s sudden change of heart before it gets bad.  
  
“You,” Baekhyun snaps, when Jongin tries to stand and leave, “where do you think you’re going?”  
  
“Um. Out?”  
  
“Sit back down.”  
  
“But—” Jongin throws Yifan a very tentative (frightened) glance.  
  
“No,” Baekhyun says, with as much authority as Yifan when he’s ordering people around, “you sit your ass back down. You got me into this mess, and you will see me through it.”  
  
To Jongin’s immense surprise, Junmyeon chuckles and Yifan says wryly, “Finally: someone that can effectively hand Jongin orders. Maybe we will keep you around.”  
  
Jongin huffs, but finds that he can’t refuse the crook of Baekhyun’s slender finger, and he sits down on the bed, fiddling with the comforter that suddenly seem quite rumpled. It’s a quilt Lu Han had given him, something that was supposed to be a joke but had ended up with the two of them locking lips over it for the first time and giving blow jobs over it for the first time and telling each other ‘I love you’ over it for the first (and last) time. Jongin can’t quite bear to part with it, however threadbare it had gotten, not when he has important memories to attribute to it.  
  
“I’ll tell you want you want to know,” Baekhyun starts, before either Yifan or Junmyeon can ask him questions, “but you need to promise me that I’ll be kept in the loop. I get to go where I want and do what I want, no questions asked.”  
  
“If you join us, you agree to our leadership,” Junmyeon returns just as smoothly. “You take part in our battles and agree to be bound to the other eleven. That comes first before your priorities, Baekhyun.”  
  
“Fine,” Baekhyun agrees, “though I reserve the right to point out when you’re being morons. Which I’m sure will be often.”  
  
Yifan snorts.  
  
“Now listen closely because I’m not repeating myself.”  
  
Baekhyun can’t tell them why they’ve been chosen—fate, destiny, who knows?—but he does tell them something Jongin has never before heard: “I’m looking for the Original Twelve.”  
  
“The what?”  
  
“ _Whom_ ,” Baekhyun corrects, “I’m looking for twelve people that have Stones like ours that were supposed to bind themselves together—but for whatever reason, couldn’t.”  
  
“There are other powers?”  
  
“Duplicates of our powers. Generations, if you will. If one fails, then the powers duplicate and transfer to another twelve, and permanently bind the powers to the people with the DNA of the previous group of Twelve.”  
  
“DNA.” Yifan sounds skeptical and very unimpressed, “This sounds like the beginning of something I would never want to read.”  
  
Baekhyun snorts. His bangs blow out of his face a moment before falling back across his eyes, and he leans to the side, peering close at Jongin; Jongin only just manages to not sweep the bangs away. Baekhyun’s eyes are pretty, and Jongin thinks he shouldn’t hide them.  
  
“Limitations,” Baekhyun begins, “do you have limitations on your teleportation power?”  
  
Jongin blinks. “Well.”  
  
“Like, you can only teleport so many things for so long before you get tired. Or the weaker you are, the more likely you are to rip yourself to pieces. Or perhaps having to see where you’re going?”  
  
“Well, I do have to see it. I can’t teleport blindly.”  
  
Baekhyun gives him a wolfish grin. “But what if I said the DNA would help counteract that? That if you could feel and hear a space as well as you see it, then you could successfully get in and out of places without vision—preferably before your comrades are shot, of course.” He gestures weakly at his arm.  
  
 _We’re comrades?_  Jongin thinks. He’s pretty sure Baekhyun didn’t mean that, but he’s sort of stuck contemplating being friends with the person he’s been chasing the past few years, and it blows his mind.  
  
“Jongin, focus.”  
  
Jongin starts when Yifan rests a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Jongin decides not to apologize.  _Friends_. He looks at Baekhyun’s pretty eyes and his slender fingers and his smug smirk and thinks he wouldn’t much mind being around them, so long as Baekhyun’s not making fun of him—or ordering Jongin around like a puppy. Jongin’s mostly positive that won’t happen again.  
  
“How do you know this?” Junmyeon asks.  
  
Jongin knows that Junmyeon’s limited in the amount of water he can influence despite having become very good at doing it. When they were younger, before Jongin had become Kai, Junmyeon had tried to move the entire Han River (or what was left of it, anyway) over about twenty feet with the help of Kyungsoo. The book Junmyeon has about the Twelve said that he was supposed to be able to do this, but all they had managed to do was slosh the water around and destroy the sides of the ravine and create months of hell for rescue workers. Jongin had sapped his energy transporting people to safety for days.  
  
“I read it,” Baekhyun says, “in a book. Do you know what those are?”  
  
It looks like Yifan really wants to hit Baekhyun over the head. Hard. His fingers are twitching, and Jongin swallows. He’s been on the receiving end of that fist more times than he cares to remember—he doesn’t really want Baekhyun to feel that, not anymore. Not if he’s right.  
  
“Where’s this book?” Jongin asks, before Yifan can take a step forward.  
  
“With Changmin, obviously.”  
  
“Then how did you read it?”  
  
Baekhyun grins. “I control light, Kai. I can make people see whatever the hell they want. I can get in and out of anywhere at any time and not set off alarms. There’s a reason I’m a better thief than you. You’ll notice my face isn’t all over the world as the most wanted criminal in the history of forever.”  
  
And ok, so maybe Jongin wouldn’t mind if someone punched Baekhyun in his perfect face.  
  
“Don’t scowl at him,” Junmyeon says, “it’s unattractive. You’re a very good thief.” He pats Jongin’s shoulder in consolation. It only makes Jongin’s mood worse.  
  
“I think we should steal that book next,” Yifan says, “if it indeed does exist.”  
  
“There’s no need for that,” Baekhyun says. “I’ve copied the entire thing. It’s in my hotel room in Beijing.”  
  
“Jongin?” Yifan asks.  
  
“I’ll go get it,” Jongin agrees. “Do you have the room key?”  
  
“ _Now_?” Baekhyun gapes at him. “Changmin’s definitely still in Beijing.”  
  
“He won’t catch me.”  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t have his key. But it’s room number 365 and enough to go on for the time being. Jongin can break in easily enough without having to teleport. The book is on his data pad, Baekhyun says, which should be in his suitcase.  
  
“Bring Zitao if you can,” Yifan says.  
  
“Wait,” Baekhyun starts, “hold on one second.”  
  
“Our leadership,” Yifan reminds Baekhyun. “Your knight in shining armor will be back in no time.”  
  
Jongin flicks his middle finger up as he stands before the freezing strands of black grip him, mask fastened across his face and hat pulled low over his brow, and in a second, he’s back in Zitao’s apartment, tendrils of nothingness swirling around him.  
  
Zitao’s home, chopsticks and noodles half way to his face which he promptly drops with an alarmed shout.  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin apologizes.  
  
Zitao swears in Mandarin, clutching his heart.  
  
“Sorry. I need to get some things from Baekhyun’s hotel room. Want to come?”  
  
“I was  _eating_ ,” Zitao pouts. But he’s wrapping a scarf around his neck and sliding a mask over his face.  
  
“You’re coming back, too,” Jongin tells him, as they descend the stairs.  
  
“Can’t I fly? Or take a boat?”  
  
“No. Yifan’s orders.”  
  
Zitao sighs. He’s never liked teleporting. Jongin thinks if he didn’t do it so often, he wouldn’t either.  
  
They walk as fast as they dare, Jongin clasping Zitao’s hand tightly in case someone spots them and they need to teleport out of the way. But the streets are mostly devoid of any officers, Chinese or otherwise, and Jongin’s very careful about his mask and hat. Though Jongin can’t help but notice the differences between Baekhyun’s hand and Zitao’s. Zitao’s is rougher, thicker, yet not quite as warm. He holds Jongin’s hand almost uncomfortably tight, and Jongin finds himself missing Baekhyun’s fingers and his smooth skin and light scrape of manicured nails.  
  
Even though it’s been less than a day.  
  
They reach the hotel in no time, hurrying up the steps and to the elevator. Jongin doesn’t bother paying attention to the interior decorating. Zitao exits the elevator first, peering around corners expertly in case of an attack, but they reach room 365 safely, and Jongin picks the lock in a matter of seconds.  
  
The room is nothing special, like any hotel room, really, though perhaps with thicker blankets and expensive drapes. A maid had recently come through, the faint smell of disinfectant in the air, the bed recently made.  
  
“What do you need?”  
  
Jongin spots the suitcase in a corner, inconspicuously black, and he confirms that the data pad is indeed inside. “That.” But he sweeps the room, hoping he has the time, and starts to throw in whatever is strewn across the floor. Zitao grabs Baekhyun’s articles from the bathroom—toothbrush and toothpaste, small bottles of soap—and Jongin dumps books and some random articles of clothing he’d found in a corner.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
They’d been there not even fifteen minutes. Zitao looks very reluctant as he takes a hold of Jongin’s hand. Jongin has to focus a minute because Zitao plus a bulging suitcase is a lot to transport, and he’s already exhausted, but several minutes later, they land in the center of his room at Yifan’s, all their body parts attached and the suitcase unharmed.  
  
Jongin collapses, though, in sudden need of sleep, and it’s Yifan that hauls him up by his arm, setting him back on the bed beside Baekhyun who's flailing a little. “My things!” he says, patting at Jongin’s body excitedly. “Thank you!”  
  
They let Baekhyun load the contents of his data pad onto a computer while Zitao goes to fetch food and coffee for Jongin which he scarfs down in a matter of minutes. He feels his energy return by the time Baekhyun has the information ready to share, but his foot is pressed against Baekhyun’s underneath his covers and their arms brush any time one of them moves, and Jongin’s quite content to stay in bed and pretend that he’s not fully recovered.  
  
“I have four of the twelve DNA samples,” Baekhyun tells them. Yifan’s dragged a table to the bedside for the computer. It’s a small screen, but they can all see it a lot better than Baekhyun’s data pad. “Those are in a bank vault along with instructions on how to turn it into a serum for use.”  
  
“Where?” Yifan asks.  
  
“In Jeju.”  
  
Not a bank Jongin’s ever robbed, then. He tends to stay away from Jeju since it’s outside the Walled Cities and wouldn’t yield much return for the risk. Granted, Jeju has mostly stayed radiation-free, but one can never be too careful.  
  
Baekhyun brings up a list on the computer, the first four names in black with their Stones listed beside them. Jongin doesn’t recognize any of them.  
  
`Kang Daesung: Water  
Kim Jaejoong: Telepathy  
Park Yoochun: Healing  
Choi Seunghyun: Earth`  
  
“Kim Jaejoong,” Junmyeon muses, “that sounds familiar.”  
  
“It should,” Bakehyun nods, “he was in the NIS for awhile before he mysteriously disappeared. Though I have it on good authority the NIS know exactly where he is.”  
  
“He almost shot me once,” Yifan says. “I remember now.”  
  
“Vicious bastard,” Baekhyun agrees. “Had a hell of a time getting it from him, let me tell you. None of them are easily beaten. They all still have their powers even if they aren’t bound to one another, so it makes them doubly dangerous. Now, the Time Controller is in Beijing. Kim Heechul. I was trying to find him before you showed up,“ he elbows Jongin, “but he’s hidden himself really well. I’m not sure why he’s in China, but he’s been hiding there the past couple of years, and I only know that because I sneaked into the NIS and almost died accessing Changmin’s private records.”  
  
“Changmin knows about the DNA?”  
  
Baekhyun gives Jongin a look. “Of course he does. He’s not an idiot like the rest of you. Were you not paying attention when I said I learned about this by  _reading his books_? Honestly.”  
  
Jongin goes back to wishing Yifan would punch Baekhyun in the face already.  
  
“I work well on my own,” Baekhyun continues. “I found all of these in the last year, and I have very good leads on the rest of them as well.”  
  
“You’ll give those to us? We get started a lot quicker if we have more than one person searching.”  
  
“If you think you can handle them and not fuck everything up, then yes, I’ll tell you everything I know.”  
  
“We’re quite capable of handling ourselves,” Yifan says. His frown is returning.  
  
“I’m sure. But you’re going up against people that have the same powers as you do and have had a longer time to perfect using them, bond or no.”  
  
“I’m well aware of that,” Yifan says back.  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “Fine, then. But I want to go back to China to get Heechul. I had a plan mostly worked out. Though, I suppose if you have your Time Controller handy, I could do a much better job.”  
  
“That’s me,” Zitao cuts in. “I’ll go back with you, so long as Jongin doesn’t teleport us there.”  
  
Yifan laughs, and Jongin tries not to stare as their stoic leader actually smiles. Yifan’s never smiled at Jongin like that. It’s a nice smile. Not as nice as Baekhyun’s, or even Lu Han’s, but still. It’s sweet.  
  
“Jongin needs to distract Changmin and Yunho,” Yifan says. “I’ll get you both plane tickets on a flight tomorrow morning if you’re up for it.”  
  
“It’ll be nice to have some extra protection,” Baekhyun muses.  
  
“Get some rest,” Junmyeon suggests. He grabs the laptop as he stands. “I’ll go over the rest of this with Yifan.”  
  
Baekhyun falls asleep first, his breathing evening out and eventually snuggling far enough into the blankets for his head to rest against Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin swallows a bit nervously, hyper aware of the heat spreading from all the places their bodies were touching even as he tries not to think about it.  
  
 _This sucks_. He’s sharing his bed for the first time in years, and it’s with someone he had trained himself to dislike. Though it had taken a day for him to change his mind because of Baekhyun’s fingers, his smile, his face. Because of the way he’d insisted Jongin stay with him.  
  
It’s nice to be wanted for something other than Teleportation.  
  
He eventually falls asleep, his temple resting against the crown of Baekhyun’s head, their hands brushing underneath the covers.  
  
  
—  
  
  
It takes several days to find the man named Baekhyun. Changmin’s cameras got several good angles of his face, so he at least starts with that, but it turns out he’s almost as good as Kai at avoiding them, and so they have no real trail to follow. Baekhyun pops up a few times in China, mostly when he’s eating before disappearing altogether for days. Changmin spots him in Korea and Japan, a few times in North America, though that was several years back, and only once in Europe.  
  
“What are the dates?” Changmin asks, wiping his eyes in the hopes it will dispel his exhaustion. He’s started seeing double.  
  
Kyuhyun hands him another cup of coffee. “I’ll check.”  
  
Changmin keeps his eyes shut, forehead resting on the cool surface of the table as he listens to Kyuhyun typing. Changmin’s so tired of this. He’s tired of being made to look like an idiot, tired of being led into traps, tired of Kai escaping traps, tired of everything. Changmin just wants to be done.  _Please let me find something_.  
  
Kyuhyun exhales hard. “Oh. Well, that can’t be just a coincidence.”  
  
“Is it worth me opening my eyes?”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
If he’s not impressed, Changmin thinks he’ll take away some of Kyuhyun’s vacation time. But his friend is as good as ever at his job, and as Changmin squints, scanning the readouts, adrenaline shoves aside his exhaustion, and he amends his previous thought: Kyuhyun deserves _more_  vacation days. Some of the dates, actually, most of them, are the same dates as Kai’s more notorious robberies. Coincidence? Changmin thinks not.  
  
“And here I thought he was capable enough to work on his own.”  
  
“But what does Baekhyun do?” Kyuhyun asks.  
  
“What any self-respecting Light Stone owner does, I imagine: make things invisible.”  
  
Still, Changmin has his doubts, and they echo in his friend’s face when Changmin spares him a glance. “What are the odds of those jobs being pulled off by Baekhyun before Kai can get to them?” Kyuhyun asks. “I mean. Kai can teleport. Why does he need to be invisible?”  
  
“You mean they’re…rivals?” Changmin questions. “But then why were they together? Why was Kai trying to rescue Baekhyun?”  
  
“I know you hate thinking like this,” Kyuhyun says, “which is why I’m going to overlook your stupidity for a moment, but we’ve been played.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean,” Kyuhyun says, “we’ve been so focused on Kai the Thief that we haven’t been paying attention to much of anything else. And I think that was exactly what Kai—or whomever he’s working for—wanted to happen.”  
  
“A distraction.” Changmin hates being fooled. He does not at all like where this is going. He is going to kill someone if this turns out to be true—so long as Yunho lets him—and it’s going to be bloody and satisfying.  
  
“Kai clearly knew who Baekhyun was. I saw how desperately he wanted Baekhyun back, and I also saw the part before you arrived. They were not having a friendly discussion, Changmin.”  
  
“Yeah,” Changmin sighs, swallowing down a fit of rage, “yeah, I get it. Kai wants the Twelve as much as we do and probably has a lead on more, if not all of them. He’s been after Baekhyun, and Baekhyun—for some reason—has been eluding him. Until now.”  
  
It’s the only story that makes sense. Baekhyun must have been the original thief, responsible for quite a few of the hauls attributed to Kai, and Kai—or his employer—must have realized his particular talents with Light and sent Kai the Teleporter out to fetch him. Baekhyun, for whatever reason, didn’t want to join Kai and his unknown associates, and so under the guise of thief, Kai chased Baekhyun around the globe trying to catch him. While Changmin wastes his time worrying about all the money Kai is stealing and not about what’s actually going on behind the scenes.  
  
It makes Changmin grind his teeth.  
  
“I’m going to report to Yunho. Can you print those for me?”  
  
“They’ll come out at your office,” Kyuhyun promises.  
  
“Thank you.” He doesn’t just mean for the pictures, and Kyuhyun’s smile tells Changmin his friend understands.  _Thanks for having a brain when I’m too prideful to admit my own mistakes._  Yunho’s not going to like this, not at all. He’ll probably take it out on Changmin, and not pleasantly.  
  
But when Changmin gets to Yunho’s office and has to key in the code, he finds that Yunho is otherwise occupied with pressing Lu Han up against a wall. Their shirts (uniforms) are a little askew, and Yunho’s hands are places on Lu Han’s body that Changmin really doesn’t want to think about at all, and their lips are (finally, Changmin grudgingly admits,) attached and look as though they have been for awhile.  
  
Yunho looks extremely put out when he pulls away. Lu Han only laughs. “Who won the betting pool?” he asks and dodges Yunho’s hand as it swats at his shoulder.  
  
“Kyuhyun,” Changmin answers immediately, moderately ashamed for having known that. He goes back to despising his friend. How dare he? How dare Kyuhyun accurately guess the time (the most inconvenient time!) for Yunho to finally succumb to Lu Han’s wiles? Changmin would have thought his friend a Telepath if he didn’t know any better.  
  
Lu Han’s still chuckling though, and he straightens the starched collars of Yunho’s jacket, dusting them off, and pressing a kiss to Yunho’s cheek (he has to go up on his tiptoes.) “I’ll leave, since Changmin seems to have something important to say.”  
  
“Stay,” Changmin finds himself saying, “it’s about Kai.”  
  
Yunho cracks his first not-related-to-Lu Han smile of the day. “Something good?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Changmin watches Lu Han carefully as he relates Kyuhyun’s suspicions, and it doesn’t take long for Yunho’s smile to turn upside down. But Lu Han’s mask of concern doesn’t falter, and he even pats Yunho’s knee. “Want me to trace him?”  
  
There’s a fire in Yunho’s eyes that means long nights and no overtime, but Changmin doesn’t really care; he  _needs_  to get Kai. No more screw ups, no more excuses, nothing but success, no matter the consequences or means.  
  
Changmin takes out the knife he palmed from Baekhyun’s jacket and hands it over. Another test, he thinks to himself, to see if Lu Han gives them the correct location or not, to see if Lu Han is really someone they can trust (someone deserving of Yunho).  
  
“Give me a minute.”  
  
It takes ten, Lu Han sitting quietly as he holds the knife in both hands, breathing in and out through his nose. Yunho stares resolutely at the ground, refusing to meet Changmin’s eyes and after a moment, Changmin decides not to be irritated. He’ll find someway to use this against Yunho to get his way (he doesn’t at all consider that blackmail,) and just waits until Lu Han comes back to hand the knife over.  
  
“The owner of the knife is at a restaurant. I don’t know if Kai is there or not.”  
  
“That’s fine. Enough to go on.”  
  
“I don’t know the restaurant,” Lu Han frowns.  
  
Changmin looks at him hard, searching for any sign of deceit. He doesn’t see anything, except a set to Lu Han’s shoulders that borders a little on panic.  _Interesting_.  
  
“That’s alright,” Changmin tells him, “I think I know which one it is. I’ll be back.”  
  
“Don’t rush into this,” Yunho warns.  
  
“I’m just going to talk. I’ll have Kyuhyun track me.”  
  
“I really don’t think you should walk into—”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Changmin says.  _I will be fine_. He’s just going to have a discussion with Kai about why he’s searching for the twelve on his own and what Changmin can do to convince him they both want the same thing. He isn’t at all going to be distracted by Kai’s lips or his face or his anything this time. He’s just going to be the Changmin that has worked his ass off to get where he is now and the Changmin that doesn’t take no for an answer.  
  
“You could just try that angle,” Lu Han suggests.  
  
“What angle?“ Yunho asks.  
  
“He likes Kai’s lips.”  
  
Changmin tries very hard not to blush. “Get out of my head.”  
  
“Not my fault you’re projecting it for miles,” Lu Han says, waving a thin hand. “You never know, Changmin. Maybe you can coax him to our side after you coax him to your bed.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Changmin tells him, ignoring Yunho’s pointed frown.  
  
Lu Han laughs. “The things I could say to that.”  
  
  
—  
  
  
Changmin smells the restaurant from a block down the street, noting the sidewalk outside already packed with patrons shoveling food into their mouths at an alarming rate. He hopes there’s a table for him somewhere.  
  
Inside, the restaurant is just as crowded, though there are a few tables that are empty. He waits to see if someone would help him, but then catches sight of the  **please seat yourself**  sign and heads over to a smaller table in the corner.  
  
He recognizes one of the waiters—he’d seen him when he and Kyuhyun had followed Lu Han with a camera—and tries not frighten the kid half out of his mind when he brings a glass of water and a menu.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
The blond’s lips purse. “Sehun.”  
  
“Sehun,” Changmin smiles. “Do me a favor. Tell Jongin I’m here, and I want to talk.” He’s sure if he  _Kai_  aloud it would turn unnecessary heads.  
  
To his credit, Sehun keeps his face still. “There’s no Jongin employed here.”  
  
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Sehun, or my methods. I know he’s here, and I’m not leaving until I speak with him. I suggest you find him so you don’t piss me off anymore than you already have.”  
  
Technically, it had been Baekhyun that Lu Han had traced, but Kai is a teleporter and if he wants to be in a place he can just  _be there_. Either way, Changmin is determined to talk.  
  
Sehun presses his lips into a thin line, turning on his heel. He heads straight for the kitchen, ignoring a few patrons that shout out to him for kimchi refills. Changmin doesn’t miss the hard set of Sehun’s shoulders or the way his fingers clutch his notebook so tight they go white. Kai’s certainly somewhere, or Sehun had at least recently seen him.  
  
But the man that comes out to speak with Changmin is not Kai, though he looks older and quite a bit more calm than Sehun had. He sets a glass of water in front of Changmin before giving him a charming smile and half bow. “Sehun said you wanted to speak with me?”  
  
“Actually,” Changmin tells him, leaning back a little, “I was looking to speak with Jongin.”  
  
“There’s no Jongin employed here.”  
  
The man is smiling, teeth glinting white against his skin that’s entirely too smooth to pass for normal in this part of town. No one around here should be able to afford looking like that, and Changmin’s so suspicious he nearly calls in the cavalry, right then and there.  
  
“What’s your name?” Changmin asks.  
  
“Everyone calls me Suho,” the man offers, “and yes, this is my establishment and no, there’s no chance that whomever it is you’re searching for is here in secret. Shim Changmin, right? Of the NIS. He must be quite a catch if you’re here personally.”  
  
“Maybe I wasn’t clear.” Changmin leans forward, giving Suho a blinding smile of his own. “I’m only here to talk. I don’t have a SWAT team waiting outside or snipers posted up on the rooftop—though perhaps you already know that. I’m here to have an honest discussion with him about the people and practices he is endorsing, and when I’m done, I will get up and leave and not arrest him. I  _know_  for a fact that Baekhyun is here because my Telepath tracked him,” he sees Suho swallow, and Changmin feels a little rush of adrenaline, “and if  _Jongin_  is indeed as protective over him as he was earlier, then he’s here as well. Though if by chance I’m wrong, I’m sure he can find a way to get here and rather quickly too.”  
  
“I—” Suho starts.  
  
“If,” Changmin continues, leaning forward even more and taking pleasure in Suho’s discomfort, “he is not here, then I  _will_  get a SWAT team, and I will sweep through your restaurant and arrest you, your employees, permanently shut this establishment down, and confiscate every single thing in here down to the last piece of dust. So I suggest you comply.”  
  
“I do not respond well to threats.”  
  
“Well, you weren’t responding well to an honest request. We all do what we have to do, Suho.”  
  
He doesn’t actually want to do that (he winces internally just thinking about all the paperwork,) but Suho’s considering him, head tilted to the side slightly, weighing his options before nodding. “Fine then. I’ll see what I can do. Can I get you something to eat while you wait?”  
  
Changmin scans the pictures on the wall until he spots the meal he and Kyuhyun had seen the first time they’d spied on the restaurant. Suho gives him another nod. “Sehun will bring it out when it’s ready.”  
  
“I appreciate your cooperation.”  
  
“I’m not promising anything,” Suho says, and he points a finger in Changmin’s face. “I  _might_  be able to reach the person you want, and  _if_  I can, it will be his decision to show up or not.”  
  
“I have all day,” Changmin assures him.  
  
“He might not come, and I doubt you could blame him if he doesn’t.”  
  
Changmin smiles again, less pleasantly this time. “For your sake I hope he does.”  
  
“I’m not the boss of him,” Suho says, “no one really is or ever has been. I suggest you get that through your head.”  
  
It’s hard to tell whether Suho is lying or not; faced with threats, it makes discerning the truth difficult. But Changmin remains optimistic that Kai will show, and settles back in his chair to wait, contemplating Suho and his exact relationship with Kai. It’s possible he is not Kai’s boss, but it’s just as possible that Suho’s lying. Or it could be a half-truth in that Suho and Kai both work for someone else—in which case, Changmin has to wonder, does Suho have a Stone and if so, which one?  
  
Sehun comes out a few moments later, food balanced perfectly on his arm, and Changmin decides that even if Kai doesn’t show, the meal is definitely going to be worth the trouble of coming here. “Sehun,” he says, before the waiter can turn away, “tell Suho that in the event of Jongin being unable to come, I’ll settle for speaking with Baekhyun.”  
  
Sehun gives him a stink eye. “You shot him,” he says. “I doubt Baekhyun will be any more willing to see you than Jongin.”  
  
He leaves, a puff of frustrated air blowing his bangs away from his face, and Changmin grins. Sehun is a lot easier to agitate than Suho, and Changmin tucks that little tidbit of information away in the back of his mind. For all he knows, the entire restaurant staff are all Stone owners and have been hiding right under Changmin’s nose. From now on, whether or not Kai shows, Changmin’s going to put this restaurant and its employees under tight surveillance.  
  
It’s an hour before the door opens, and Kai walks inside, mask fastened across his face and cap low over his brow—Changmin would recognize him anywhere and watches as Kai walks over to him and stands in front, arms crossed. It’s easy to picture his lips forming a scowl.  
  
“You came,” Changmin comments, taking a sip of his water.  
  
“You threatened Baekhyun.”  
  
“I did no such thing,” Changmin says. “But it’s nice to know that will get you to come when I call.”  
  
Kai snorts. “You’re lucky I was in the area.”  
  
“I have very good sources.” Changmin takes another sip of water. “Sit?”  
  
“Not here. Follow me.”  
  
“No one’s going to come at you.”  
  
“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Kai tells him, “but because you put my face all over the fucking city, I cannot sit down in a restaurant and have a chat without someone calling the cops, regardless of you being here or not.  _Follow me._ ”  
  
He doesn’t wait for acknowledgement, turning on his heel and marching briskly out to the back. Changmin stares after him a moment, a little flabbergasted at being ordered around by a  _criminal_ , before Sehun reappears, still huffing, and beckons.  
  
The room he’s led to in the back looks like it’s something usually reserved for couples willing to pay top dollar for private dining. It’s not the most comfortable—but the curtain hanging in the door frame encloses them, and a dim light hanging from the ceiling gives a soft glow that’s actually quite romantic.  
  
Sehun puts down Changmin’s half-eaten dinner in front of him and then a cup of coffee in front Kai. “I’ll be right outside,” he says, in a manner that’s supposed to mean  _and I’ll be listening so don’t try anything_. Changmin doesn’t have any plans of the sort, but he can’t blame them for being continuously suspicious. He would be.  
  
He watches Kai fling his mask onto the table and shove a hand through his hair when he takes his cap off, shaking bangs from his eyes and blinking owlishly as the sunglasses come off and he adjusts his vision.  
  
It’s mesmerizing. Changmin actually feels his mouth go a little dry as he’s drawn to the way Kai’s tongue licks at his own mouth before blowing on the coffee and taking a sip, swearing as it burns him. Changmin really, desperately, wants to bite Kai’s lips, remembering their encounter earlier and how they had turned red as Kai gnawed on them anxiously.  _You could try that angle_ , Lu Han’s voice echoes in his memory.  
  
“So,” Kai starts, before Changmin can think about angles that may apply, “what’s so urgent that you come waving a white flag and insist on meeting?”  
  
“You make it sound like you hate coming here.”  
  
Kai shrugs. “They’ve got the best food,” he says, and then grins, sending Changmin’s stomach plummeting to the floor and his common sense wheeling, “but the employees…well, you’ve met Sehun.”  
  
It’s the most ridiculous lie Changmin’s ever been told, but he’s not here to call Kai out on it or stir up more trouble than he wants. Kai’s allowed self-preservation and the preservation of his friends (accomplices, Changmin corrects,) and lets it go.  
  
“I just want to talk,” Changmin begins, “without pointing a gun in your face to make you stay.”  
  
“Talk about what?”  
  
“About what we were discussing earlier. Why you won’t join us—what the deal is that you said you made? And also about Baekhyun.”  
  
The name gets the reaction Changmin wants: Kai’s eyes flash, and he sits up straighter. “What about Baekhyun?”  
  
“I have a hypothesis,” Changmin starts, “but I’m still filling in the holes. It’s obvious he has the Light Stone, and that you want him, which can only lead to the conclusion that you’re gathering the Twelve on your own—or trying. What escapes me is  _why_. Why are you looking for the Twelve when I’ve offered over and over again to help you? You won’t have to hide. You’ll have a clean slate. Protection. Housing. Food. What is so wrong about that?”  
  
“I’ll not be a slave.”  
  
“You wouldn’t be,” Changmin frowns.  
  
“I would,” Kai argues, “I would be a slave to the Government and what they want and need, and I  _refuse_  to do that. To be that.”  
  
“Do you honestly think I’d suffer that?” Changmin asks. “That I’d let someone control me like that?”  
  
“We are in entirely different situations. Besides,” Kai leans in, grin back in place, and Changmin has a very hard time banishing a fantasy of reaching over the table to haul Kai in closer for a kiss, “what I want to fix is the Government.”  
  
“Kai,” Changmin starts, “ _Jongin_ —”  
  
He stops, having to swallow as Kai stands up, muscles rippling underneath his shirt. “I’m not interested. You try and contact me like this again, and you will sincerely regret it.”  
  
“Don’t walk away from me,” Changmin growls, shoving to his feet and glaring down a few centimeters into Kai’s face. His  _perfect_  face. “We are not done.”  
  
“I’m done,” Kai shrugs.  
  
It happens before Changmin can properly realize what he’s doing, and he’s so grateful his cameras can’t see back here because if Lu Han were to see him grabbing Kai’s shirt and pressing him up against a wall and biting down firmly on Kai’s lip, Changmin would never hear the end of it.  
  
As it is, the small squeak of surprise from Kai and then feel of his lips and his tongue and his fucking hands digging into Changmin’s arms and sliding around his middle and fisting his hair are things Changmin will never be able to banish from his mind.  
  
“ _Agent_ , ” Kai gasps, in mock horror, but when Changmin presses their foreheads together, he smirks because Kai’s eyes are glassy, his pupils blown wide, and Changmin wonders if this might be the thing that wins him the war.  
  
“ _Kai_ ,” Changmin says, and leans in for more.  
  
Kai’s lip is bleeding when Changmin pulls away the next time, Kai’s hands in Changmin’s hair, Changmin’s hand dangerously close to plunging down Kai’s pants. But he’s a different Kai—subdued, eyes glazed over, tongue poking at the tear in his lip. “What the fuck,” Kai says dully, but he’s pliant, slumped against the wall and held up only because of Changmin’s arm, the fight drained out of him, body geared for something else entirely.  
  
“I meant what I said about the clean slate, Jongin,” Changmin murmurs. “I want to stop hunting you.” And Kai should know he can’t hide forever. Not anymore. Not now that Changmin knows about this restaurant, regardless of how it actually fits into Kai’s life.  
  
Kai regards him a moment, finally raising a hand to wipe at his mouth. Changmin wants to kiss him again, so help him. He can barely breathe for want of it. Good lord, the places he would like for those lips to go.  
  
To his surprise, it’s Kai that pulls him back down, tongue licking at the seam of Changmin’s lips until he’s panting again, his pride as an NIS agent the only thing keep him from grinding himself against a just-as-interested Master Thief.  
  
Lu Han can never, ever, find out.  
  
“I’ll consider it,” Kai finally whispers, mouth against Changmin’s ear.  
  
“I’m not a complete idiot. I know you’re working with other people, and you need to talk to them. You’re a terrible liar.”  
  
Kai actually blushes. “Go, before Sehun comes back.”  
  
When Changmin releases him, Kai slumps back down onto the bench, exhausted, even though all they had done was kiss. Honestly, Changmin wishes he could do the same. Follow him down, balance on his elbows, move against him until they both come in their pants. Like fucking teenagers, for heaven’s sake. Changmin hasn’t felt this way in years.  
  
“Go,” Kai murmurs, but it’s a far cry from his bossy tone of voice earlier. “The meal’s on the house.” Changmin really has kissed the disrespect right out of him. He feels proud.  
  
“Think about it,” Changmin says.  
  
“Thinking,” Kai says, eyes falling shut, and he waves a hand. “Thinking really hard.”  
  
And what else can Changmin do?  
  
He leaves with his adrenaline still pumping, blood pounding in his ears, and he thinks he’s either going to lock himself in a bathroom to jerk off or else take a really cold shower.  
  
His phone rings at the top of the street and as he’s hailing a cab. “Hello?”  
  
“Shim Changmin!”  
  
Changmin blinks. “Who is this?”  
  
“You  _asshole_.”  
  
A cab stops in front of him as Changmin frowns at his phone. He gives the driver the NIS address before turning his attention back to the mysterious caller. An agitated huff finally makes Changmin’s brain click. “Heechul?”  
  
“Do you know what happened today?”  
  
“Why are you calling me? You know you can’t call me. We can’t be in contact.”  
  
“Not important right now. Listen closely, Changmin-ah. Your little Light prodigy just stole my DNA.”  
  
All thoughts of Kai’s sexy lips flee Changmin’s mind . “What?”  
  
“I almost nabbed him,” Heechul continues, “but I underestimated his sidekick’s…kicks.” He laughs like it’s funny. “I’m fine, though, thanks for asking.”  
  
“He got your DNA?”  
  
“Are you deaf? Yes. Do you understand what that means? He’s got five out of twelve now, you complete imbecile. Do I need to come down there and do your job? Get it under control.”  
  
“Five?” Changmin asks, feeling weak.  
  
“Changmin, I swear to God. What the hell have you been doing the past few years? Fucking  _fishing_? They found Jaejoong and Yoochun. Daesung. Seunghyun. Now me. Where were you?”  
  
Chasing after Jongin, Changmin thinks. Kyuhyun had been right. They’d been so caught up with chasing Kai no one had even thought to check on the Original Twelve, assuming they were safe, assuming no one knew of them. Kai had been the perfect trap, and Changmin had walked right into it.  
  
But no more.  
  
“I’m on it,” Changmin promises, and hangs up before Heechul can make him feel worse than he already does. “Fuck!” he yells, making the driver swerve dangerously. “Fuck fuck fuck!”  
  
His cold shower is going to have to wait.

 

\--

 

  
  


Baekhyun and Tao get back from China a day after Changmin had come to visit Kyungsoo’s restaurant. Sehun’s still muttering angrily about how he hadn’t been allowed to slip a little poison into Changmin’s food, and Junmyeon’s still frowning with disapproval whenever Jongin walks by, but it had all been worth it. Baekhyun is back safe and had succeeded in snagging the Time Control DNA for Zitao. They put the vial in the brick oven safe next to the Stones, and Jongin fervently hopes Changmin doesn’t raid the restaurant as he had promised.

“It’ll be fine,” Junmyeon tells him, “it’s not like he can do much of anything with myself, Sehun, and Kyungsoo here. That’s not much of a match for a SWAT team, and he knows that.”

“But he doesn’t know who you are,” Jongin points out.

“He’d have to be a complete imbecile not to suspect it,” Junmyeon returns, “and we both know he’s absolutely brilliant. We’ll be perfectly safe. Now let’s go, or Yifan will have our heads for being late.”

It’s rare that all of them meet in one place, but with Baekhyun making Twelve, it was time they all met each other. Taking a car is too risky, especially considering the possibility that the restaurant is being watched, so Jongin teleports as many people as he can to Yifan’s house. Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Sehun are the last ones, and he collapses in a chair next to Zitao, exhausted at having hauled everyone several miles back and forth in such a short span of time. Well, everyone but Lu Han. It’s far too risky for him to be anywhere except NIS, especially right now, but Jongin knows he’s listening in, probably piggybacked on Yifan’s mind, watching.

Baekhyun catches Jongin’s eye across the room and Jongin feels his throat go dry when the Light Stone raises his hand and crooks a finger at him. A clear demand. Zitao snickers, clearly having seen the exchange, and gods help him, Jongin can only stumble to his feet to sit squished between a smirking Baekhyun and a very disgruntled Yifan. Baekhyun latches onto his hand, gripping it tight, and Jongin feels a little bad, realizing that the other ten giving Baekhyun looks must make him feel uncomfortable.  _You got me into this_ , Baekhyun had told him. So Jongin had. He squeezes Baekhyun’s hand back and swallows.

Introductions are made before Yifan launches straight into their plan of attack.

“I flew to France myself to check up on the lead Baekhyun has there concerning a fashion designer.”

“You  _flew_  flew?” Minseok asks.

Yifan’s eyebrow twitches, but he nods. Better not to risk a potential security issue. And Yifan’s a very, very fast flier. “I got his DNA myself, rather cleverly.” He looks impressed with himself, and Jongin only just manages to keep his face in check. He would love to roll his eyes. “We have a lead on Lightning,” Yifan continues smoothly, nodding at Jongdae, “in Japan. Wind might also be there.”

“It’s a little up in the air,” Jongdae cuts in, grin splitting his face, and half the room groans. Only Chanyeol titters, though he covers it up quickly with a cough.

“Yes,” Yifan clears his throat, “or LA, we’re not sure yet. The tricky one is going to be Frost.”

“What about Fire and Light?” Chanyeol frowns.

“We have no idea,” Junmyeon admits. “Which is why Frost will be tricky. We want to ask him whose DNA it is we need.”

“Light is hard to find,” Baekhyun finally speaks up, “because it can look like anything, even another power if the person’s good enough.”

“Who’s going for Frost?”

Jongin knows he’s on the list along with the Baekhyun; that much is obvious. “Zitao will go with you both for extra protection, but the rest of us are going to follow the other leads and keep up pretenses here,” Junmyeon says. “I imagine Changmin will have the restaurant watched, so we need to make sure it appears as though we’re conducting business as usual.”

Teleportation, Light, and Time against Frost? Fair chances, Jongin thinks. He could probably take Frost by himself so long as the person isn’t too inclined towards martial arts. But that’s why Zitao is going, and Baekhyun clearly doesn’t want to be anywhere Jongin is not. It makes him pleased and he smiles faintly, realizing a moment too late he’d squeezed Baekhyun’s fingers again and that they were squeezing back. Jongin blushes. The last thing he needs is someone else to kiss (though he admittedly wants it).

They stay for a quiet dinner, not wanting to draw attention by being rowdy, and once Jongin regains his strength, teleports the ones that need transportation back home. By the time he’s done, Baekhyun’s waiting for him in bed. They’d been sharing it ever since Baekhyun had arrived, and as much as Jongin wishes he could just have it to himself, he’s far too exhausted to care. Baekhyun’s sweet anyway, tucking the covers around him and making sure his pillow is fluffed. “They overwork you.”

“Not rebelling,” Jongin tells him, drooling a little.

“I wasn’t suggesting that.”

Baekhyun lies parallel to Jongin, head a lot closer than Jongin is comfortable with it being. But it’s calming, having Baekhyun’s smile so near and their bodies almost touching underneath Lu Han’s quilt. “I heard you made out with Changmin. Taking one for the team?”

“Something like that. He was sexy, though,” Jongin admits, eyes closing. He doesn’t want to think about it, honestly. He’d done it to keep Changmin’s eyes away from China while they nabbed DNA, and it had worked. Jongin had kept Zitao and Baekhyun safe, and that’s all that matters.

Jongin feels Baekhyun’s finger trace his cheek, and it’s a line against his skin that burns so hot, it’s almost painful. “Just so you know, I’m a better kisser.”

“So you’ve kissed Changmin, have you?”

“I’m  _always_  the better kisser,” Baekhyun tells him.

Jongin can’t even help his eyes opening, squinting underneath the heavy weight of sleep. There’s a little glow of light to Baekhyun’s skin, and he looks almost angelic. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe Baekhyun’s drawing him with some sort of Light ability, maybe it’s just plain attraction, but the next thing Jongin knows, Baekhyun’s mouth is against his. It’s gentle, sweet, even when Baekhyun licks against him and slides a tongue into his mouth sending sparks down to Jongin’s toes, his stomach curling in on itself happily. Baekhyun’s skin is as smooth as Jongin remembers (as he slides Baekhyun’s shirt up to touch it,) his hair as soft (as Jongin threads his fingers through it), and he loses his ability to breathe as he drowns in the sensation of it all.

“Better than Changmin?” Baekhyun asks, pulling away a minute to smile as Jongin gasps. Maybe it’s because he’s really attracted to Baekhyun and not so much attracted to Changmin or maybe it’s because Baekhyun is finally on their side and Jongin feels like he’s already  _conquered_ , like Baekhyun is someone he can actually have while Changmin will never be that for him ever, but Jongin’s nodding.

“Yes,” Jongin says, and swallows as Baekhyun cuddles up next to him, nose to Jongin’s chest, and a happy smile on his face that Jongin wants to stare at forever.

“Go to sleep,” Baekhyun orders, with a gentle push to Jongin’s shoulder.

His exhaustion comes back in a rush, adrenaline bleeding out of him as Baekhyun settles down, even though he’s laying quite comfortably in Jongin’s arms. A strange feeling bubbles up in Jongin’s chest, and it takes a moment to recognize it.

_I’m content_ , Jongin thinks, amazed, and it’s moments before Baekhyun’s breathing lulls him to sleep.

 

—

The next time they kiss is at Bora Bora.

Frost lives in Bora Bora. It’s the strangest place for Frost to be, because it’s still warm, even after the war, but it had remained relatively unaffected, and thus makes an even better vacation destination than ever before. Although, Jongin thinks, it’s actually a perfect hiding spot for someone associated with freezing. Minseok looks like he wants to cry when he hears; he can’t imagine a Frost Stone living in constant heat.

Jongin has never been to Bora Bora, so they can’t teleport there. It’s an ordeal, and one that requires a lot of finagling, but Yifan manages to score them a small cargo plane whose pilot doesn’t question Jongin’s masked face. Baekhyun clings to him the entire flight, squeaking every time the ship runs into turbulence , felt a thousandfold since the airplane is so much smaller than a 747.

When they alight, Baekhyun shoves Jongin into the bathroom while Zitao talks to the pilot in rapid Mandarin. He kisses Jongin just this side of desperate and is only breathing regularly, puppy grin back in place after they pull apart.

“I’m glad we don’t have to fly back,” Baekhyun says, and skips out the door before Jongin can get a word in edgewise.

Bora Bora is beautiful, a precious slice of the earth left alone by the war.

For a moment, they act their very young ages and find the nearest public beach, falling into the water even as their shirts hit the ground and laughing through the taste of salt and sand and clean air. Jongin relishes being able to strip off his mask and know that Changmin will not see him.

They find a place to stay that’s a little under the radar, just in case, though they know they won’t be there for long. Zitao goes out to buy food, taking some money Junmyeon had given them and promising to be back within the hour.

He’s gone for forty-five minutes before Baekhyun latches onto Jongin’s arm, eyes sparkling, light curling around them, and the way he glows takes Jongin’s breath away. They kiss in the middle of the cottage, gentle, tender, and Jongin speculates on its meaning.

They only break apart when they hear Zitao stumbling through the door with bags, and Jongin wonders if maybe he moved away too fast because Baekhyun’s eyes are sad when he looks at him next.

There’s only one bed, and the three of them sprawl over it together after they eat, intent on searching for Frost in the morning. They hadn’t been given a time limit, and in a place as nice as this, what’s the hurry? No one’s looking for them here.

Baekhyun manages to wheedle his way into the middle of Jongin and Zitao on the bed, face snug against Jongin’s shoulder, arms tucked against him, back pressed to Zitao’s spine and Jongin has to fight to not dip down and kiss him again. He thinks Zitao would certainly have something to say about that.

Kissing can wait.

Using the information from Junmyeon, the next morning is an early one, and they track Frost to a cottage on one of Bora Bora’s mountains. Zitao hikes ahead of them a little, eyes tracking every rustle of the leaves, ready to time-freeze anything that moves suspiciously.

They don’t have to hike very far before a figure appears in front of them. Zitao moves fast, hand outstretched, but ice spreads across their feet, trapping them before they can move. Zitao breaks it with a knife that had somehow materialized in his hand, but Jongin holds out a hand to stop him.

Frost is not alone.

Jongin is suddenly very glad that he has two other people with him because Frost is accompanied by Telepathy and Healing, two DNA samples Baekhyun’s already managed to get which is sort of a bummer; why couldn’t it be two people they didn’t already have?

But Frost is smiling, all three of the former Stones are smiling, and Jongin’s glad he’d stopped Zitao from acting on his own. They’ll need a strategy to take the other three down.

“You don’t have to fight us for it,” Telepathy says.

Jongin blinks.

“For Junsu’s DNA. That’s why you’re here, right? He’s the only one of us you haven’t gotten.”

The light on Baekhyun’s hands stutters, as if he’s thinking too fast to keep it steady. Frost holds out a test tube, swiping the inside of his mouth a cotton swab before plopping it into the container, sticky with spit. “There,” Frost says, “now you have it.”

“What—” Jongin starts, voice flat. Zitao drops his knife in shock, and it pings against a ice on the pathway, even as it breaks and frees their feet.

“I guess I’m the first one you haven’t had to fight,” Frost muses, and then throws a dirty look at Telepathy and Healing.

“C’mon, Junsu,” Healing says, hands raised, “that one came at me before I could say a single word. Not my fault.” He’s pointing at Baekhyun, and Jongin slides closer to him subtly, in case they’ll need to teleport out.

Telepathy steps in between the two of them, smile still gracious, and Jongin frowns again because he still can’t remember why he looks familiar. Something about the cheekbones, Jongin thinks, or his eyes. They’re gentler than he had expected.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Telepathy says, and then cocks his head to the side, “and you recognize me because I used to work for the NIS.”

“Jaejoong ,” Baekhyun says from beside Jongin. He’d somehow closed the rest of the distance between them, and his nails are digging painfully into Jongin’s forearm.

Frost introduces himself as Junsu and Healing as Yoochun. Jongin vaguely recalls their names in Baekhyun’s notes, and he relaxes a little. Jaejoong gives them a blinding smile. “We don’t have much time, so listen closely.”

Baekhyun’s grip doesn’t relent. “We’re not in a rush.”

“No, you really are,” Jaejoong says, “because Changmin and Lu Han are almost here.”

“Changmin couldn’t have followed us,” Jongin scoffs. They’d been extra careful.

“There’s always a way for Changmin,” Jaejoong shakes his head, “always, Kai. It’s a little disappointing that you don’t already know that. Now listen closely.” He pulls a data pad from his pocket, keying in a code before handing it over. “A definitive and accurate list of the former twelve and their current whereabouts.”

“Even Fire and Light?” Baekhyun asks, grabbing the data pad eagerly.

“Yes,” Jaejoong nods, “though I’ll save you the trouble of looking through that and just tell you: it’s Yunho and Changmin.”

In the back of his mind, Jongin supposes he had suspected it. He’d never said it out loud nor really even thought it, but there’s no way the two of them would be so invested in uniting the Twelve without having some sort of tie to them. The look on Baekhyun’s face says he’s thinking the same exact thing. Their job just became infinitely more difficult.

“Back then,” Jaejoong tells them, “we were—immature. We were trying to unite for all the wrong reasons, and so we scattered ourselves across the world in hopes that the newer generation would do things right.” He gives Jongin a hard look. “You don’t have time to fuck this up.”

“I know that,” Jongin says, “we’re doing what we can.”

“Do it faster,” Frost—Junsu—says, “you’re running out of time.”

“But—”

“I’ll take you out the back,” Junsu says, “Changmin’s almost here.”

“How do you  _know_?” Baekhyun demands.

“Telepathy,” Jaejoong tells him, tapping his temple , “now go. We’ll hold them off until you can get out of here.”

Jongin snags Zitao's hand and then Baekhyun’s, holding onto them firmly in case they’re being betrayed or worse, and he follows Junsu cautiously. Baekhyun’s fingers are white, though Zitao’s grip is less firm in case he needs to let go and hit something; he looks as though that’s exactly what he wants to do.

Junsu leads them down a narrow but well-worn path, silent until they reach the bottom of the mountain. He gives them a smile. “Good luck,” he says, “and if your Frost ever needs advice, let him know he can come to me anytime.”

He leaves with a pat to Baekhyun’s shoulder and doesn’t look back, scurrying up the path a lot faster than they had come down on it.

“C’mon,” Jongin says, “we can figure out the validity of all this once we’ve returned to Seoul. Let’s get our things.”

To be safe, he teleports them back to their room, and they start packing wordlessly, throwing everything into bags. Moving all of them and their things is going to be taxing, but Jongin doesn’t see an alternative. It’s best to assume Changmin is here—it certainly isn’t going to hurt them.

 

—

 

Honestly, Changmin never wanted to see them again. But it doesn’t take a genius—or even Lu Han—to guess at where Jongin would eventually go, especially if he already has a bunch of the Stones. So Changmin plans a trip, intent on making sure DNA doesn’t stray (or hasn’t strayed) from anyone important, as much as he wishes they weren’t. He brings Lu Han with him if only because he knows he might want to meet another Telepathy Stone, despite Changmin’s history with him.

Changmin’s only been to Bora Bora once before, but he knows exactly where he needs to go, leading Lu Han to one of the mountains. The island is beautiful, and thankfully not too busy this time of year, and he’s more than happy to breathe in the fresh air and begin the hike into thinner atmosphere; he’s pretending it’s a vacation for as long as he can.

“They know we’re here,” Lu Han says suddenly.

“Of course they do. Jaejoong’s even better at Telepathy than you.”

Lu Han pouts.

“Why do you think Yunho likes you so much?” Changmin says, before he can stop himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Thankfully, Lu Han knows better than to pry into Changmin’s memories, and so Changmin just gives him a rueful smile. If Yunho wants to tell Lu Han about his history with Telepathy Stone wielders, than he will. Changmin doesn’t need to get in the middle any more than he already is (or even has been). He hadn’t approved of Yunho’s shenanigans back then either, though Changmin knows better than to rub it in his commander’s face.

Speaking of ancient history, Changmin’s got enough of his own to deal with, and as they crest a part of the trail, it’s waiting for them, arms crossed and sun-kissed and Changmin sighs, smile gone. “Yoochun.”

“Shim Changmin, I never thought I’d see you again.” Yoochun grins, hand outstretched. He throws a glance at Lu Han. “And the other Telepathy Stone, I presume. Jaejoong is thrilled.”

The feel of Yoochun’s fingers on his elbow are the same, the curl of his stomach when Yoochun smiles more than just familiar and Changmin makes himself think of Kai and his lips to shove back painful memories.

Changmin jerks his arm away.

“Don’t be like that,” Yoochun frowns.

“Where’s Jaejoong?”

“In the house, where else would he be?”

It’s an invitation. With another sigh, and a very enthusiastic Lu Han poking his side, Changmin gives in, following Yoochun up the rest of the path to the cottage and cursing Yunho and his orders and his inability to face any of the former Twelve without getting irrationally angry.

“Don’t blame Yunho,” Jaejoong’s voice says, and a moment later he appears in front of Changmin and Lu Han. “He has a right to be upset at everyone besides you.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Not my fault you’re broadcasting on all frequencies.” Jaejoong shrugs, and then he turns to Lu Han, cocking his head. “Well, well,” he says, and his smile brightens. “You can come with me.” He holds out a hand. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“I’m only here because—”

“You’re way too late for that,” Jaejoong scoffs, “they already have our DNA.”

Changmin feels his heart sink.

“It’d be a shame for you to have come out here for nothing, though, which is why I’m going to have a chat with a fellow Telepathic and teach him a few tricks. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

“I want him returned in one piece,” Changmin calls. Jaejoong wiggles a few fingers over his shoulder.

“Coffee?” Yoochun asks, and Changmin can only follow. He knows better than to argue and besides that, he could really use a few hours rest. There’s no way Kai is still on Bora Bora anyhow; Lu Han would have told Changmin, had he sensed it. Might as well get  _something_  out of this disastrous situation, and if it’s only a cup of coffee, then so be it. Yoochun’s coffee has always been exceptionally good.

 

—

 

He shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, Changmin ends up telling Yoochun everything. It might have something to do with the liquor Yoochun had blatantly mixed into their mugs, but Changmin knows it’s mostly because he’s never been able to keep secrets from Yoochun. Changmin’s always told Yoochun everything.

“I’ve seen some pictures of Kai,” Yoochun tells him. “He’s very handsome. Nothing like me, of course, but I can see where you’d be attracted.”

“He’s the enemy.”

“You need to stop thinking of him like that,” Yoochun says. “Don’t you want him on your side? No one allies with people that hate them.”

“I don’t hate Kai.”

“Good job making that clear, I never would have guessed.”

Changmin pouts.

“You know I’m right,” Yoochun says, one eyebrow raised.

“Fuck you.”

“Any time, baby.” Yoochun grins. “I could never tire of you. Well, your legs, anyway. Your face is a tragedy, but we can’t have everything in life.”

Changmin throws a pillow at Yoochun, satisfied when it thunks against his head.

“Buck up,” Yoochun says, “either get it together or let it go. Either way, it sounds like you’ll get your Twelve.”

“Are you on his side?” Changmin asks.

Yoochun shrugs. “I’m on my own side. Always have been. The point is: do you really have a problem?”

“Fuck you,” Changmin says again.

“Like I said. Any time, Changmin, any time.”

 

—

 

They take a plane back to Seoul the next day, and all Changmin hears in his head is Yoochun’s admonishment.  _Do you really have a problem?_ Yes, Changmin thinks, he does. Kai has always been a problem and always will be a problem, albeit a sexy one. Or maybe he’s more of a problem because he’s sexy? Changmin’ll have to take a sedative tonight to fall asleep. His head is pounding.

But the fates are not favorable.

When he keys into his apartment that night, exhausted and ready for bed, there’s a message on his phone, waiting for him. He has no idea how Kai might have gotten his number, but it’s definitely him; Changmin would recognize that voice anywhere.

He leaves an address along with a warning to come alone, and with a sad sigh, Changmin kisses his relaxing evening goodbye. He tries to call Yunho, but when his commander doesn’t answer, Changmin leaves a voice message of his own and thinks that if Kai kills him, Yunho will at least have a lead to follow.

Changmin had expected a love motel, but when he arrives at the address, finds himself pleasantly surprised; for encroaching dangerously on the city limits, it’s an actual hotel, and not a bad one at that.

Kai’s in the room when Changmin keys in, and they stand there a moment, eyes roaming over one another before Kai sprawls himself comfortably over a couch and grins. “You actually came.”

Changmin snorts.

“I was skeptical,” Kai continues, “but here you are. Have a seat.”

Changmin stays standing. “Is there something important you wanted? Like maybe to tell me you’re willing to be on our side?”

“I’m not on your side,” Kai scoffs, “and I don’t ever want to be.”

“You can’t do this alone, Kai.”

“You have no idea what I am capable of doing.”

“So then why did you call me, if we’re just going to have the same discussion as before?”

Kai grins. “Just for fun,” he says.

“For fun? What does that mean?”

In the low light of the room, Kai’s skin is practically glowing, and as he stands and walks over, Changmin has a hard time imagining the way Kai would look without the white cotton shirt covering his torso, or how he would look if he lost the pants.

“It means I want more of this,” Kai tells him. He fists the front of Changmin’s coat , and even if he had wanted to (which he doesn’t), Changmin wouldn’t have been able to stop those lips from pressing up against his or the hands that pull off his jacket and his shirt and then his belt. “If you want,” Kai says as he drops onto his knees.

And oh, does Changmin want.

It’s everything he has imagined over the past few days (for as long as he’d been chasing Kai, if he’s going to be honest), and he’s past caring about what this means. Is there such a thing as Stockholm Syndrome even though he’s had no contact with Kai at all? All that matters is how fucking amazing Kai’s lips look as they wrap around Changmin’s cock and how fucking amazing it feels as Kai swallow Changmin down whole. “Gods,” Changmin gasps, and wraps strands of Kai’s hair around his fingers and thrusts shallowly. Kai moans around him, and Changmin loses it, lets go, lets Kai press Changmin’s hips back and take control because Changmin can’t pretend that this isn’t exactly what he’s wanted all along.

 

—

 

Yunho’s waiting for him when he gets back, frown permanently etched into his face. “Please tell me you didn’t just go see Kai.” It’s in his  _I’m very disappointed in you_  voice. Changmin freezes. “Because if you did, then you’ve just given them the second to last piece of the puzzle they need to bind their powers.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shim Changmin,  _how could you be so stupid_?”

“What, Yunho?”

His commanding officer takes another step nearer. “I had Lu Han followed.”

“Okay.” Changmin draws out the word, waiting for a punchline.

“Like for-real followed. He keeps going back to that restaurant. Talks to the staff. I grew suspicious.”

Changmin still isn’t sure how this is related to Kai sucking Changmin’s dick (and sucking it really, really, well), but he waits. Yunho sometimes requires patience to get across his intent.

“So I fed him some information…incorrect information, that is.”

“About what?”

“About Lightning.”

“Seungri?” Changmin asks, “I thought he was in Japan.”

“He is,” Yunho nods, “hiding safe and sound, but I told Lu Han he’d come to visit because he had some important information about a weakness of Kai’s. A way to catch him.”

“There isn’t a way.”

“No,” Yunho agrees, “there isn’t, but I was very convincing and got Lu Han to believe me. I told him to keep it quiet and watch the place where Seungri was supposedly hiding to make sure he was kept safe.”

“Someone showed up?” Changmin guesses, stomach sinking.

“Yes.” Yunho nods. “And they destroyed the house. After they realized he wasn’t there, it went up in flames.”

“Fire,” Changmin guesses again, meaning the Fire Stone.

“Fire.” Yunho nods. “Though we didn’t see his face. But I didn’t hear anything from Lu Han until the embers had cooled. So I called him to my office, and he took one look at the security footage on my computer and ran out the door so fast I couldn’t even catch him.”

“He  _ran_?”

“He ran,” Yunho confirms, “which means he has nothing left to lose.”

“But how is this related to Kai?” Changmin’s not sure they were using him as a distraction this time. If they had wanted Seungri’s DNA all they would have had to do is make Kai pop in to get it instead of sending Fire to completely demolish a building.

“I imagine Kai doesn’t know what happened,” Yunho says. “Changmin, I know you. I know exactly how you feel about him, and that’s a problem. Because once you get something in your head, once you want something, it’s all you can think about, and despite your brilliance, it narrows your vision, and you lose sight of the big picture.”

He’s right, of course. Changmin remembers one time a friend had taken him to an antique toy shop and Changmin had been so enthralled with the ancient plastic building blocks, he’d used his money for the day on an armful of sets, not even thinking about the fact that he had been using money set aside for food. It was as if his mind had been completely wiped of any rational thought as he had gotten caught up in his excitement.

“I know you wanted Kai, but Changmin…I don’t think he agreed to see you because he wants you back.”

“But he didn’t take anything. I certainly didn’t give him anything.”

Yunho crosses his arms. “Shim Changmin.”

Changmin swallows. “Y-es?”

“Where did you just come back from visiting?”

“…Bora Bora.”

“And why were you there?”

“To make sure Junsu’s DNA hadn’t been—“

Changmin trails off, brain finally pushing past the happy glow in his body and the lingering images of Kai’s mouth. In comes horror. “Oh, god.”

Yunho snorts.

“My DNA. He wanted to sleep with me to get my DNA.”

“And now,” Yunho says, “I’m the only one left of the Twelve that hasn’t had their DNA whisked away, and I’m without a Telepath to track any of them. So tell me, Changmin. What are we going to do about that?”

 

—

 

Jongin barricades himself in his room when he gets back, ignoring the pounding on the door from outside and decides to take a shower. There’s guilt edging in on him, because it’s not difficult to see how much Changmin’s attracted to Kai.  _Kai_ , Jongin reminds himself,  _my persona, my lie. Not my real self._  Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

Though, Changmin is rather sexy. It made sleeping with him a lot easier.

“I still don’t understand,” Lu Han says when Jongin finally emerges and hands over the DNA to Junmyeon before sitting down in front of a bowl of kimchi jjigae. “You could have plucked a hair. You didn’t have to have sex.”

“If I had popped in and plucked a hair and then left, he’d have immediately suspected something. We made out before, so I figured this would be the least suspicious. Plus, he is sexy.”

Baekhyun, who’s been leaning on Jongin’s shoulder as Jongin shovels down dinner, snorts suddenly, and stands. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves, but his nose is scrunched up, and Jongin wants to paste a sign on his back that says “kick me,” so that maybe someone could knock him down to size.

“Not sure you should say that with him around.”

“What?” Jongin takes another savage bite. “Why not?”

“Want to know what he was thinking?” Lu Han continues, “I’ll tell you. It was: ‘I’m sexy, too.’” He pats Jongin’s back as the thief chokes on a piece of tofu. “Think about it.”

Jongin doesn’t want to, not really. He doesn’t do feelings, and he’s pretty sure that’s what this mess is all about. Sleeping with Changmin had hurt Baekhyun’s feelings. But it had been for all of them, for the betterment of mankind and all that. Though, alright, Jongin has a growing inkling Baekhyun isn’t going to see it that way.

“He doesn’t see it that way,” Lu Han says. “He’s rather upset, and you should get over yourself and go talk to him.”

“More important things to worry about right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like how we’re going to get Yunho’s DNA,” Yifan says, stepping into the room, “since you up and ran off without snagging a toenail first.”

“Self-preservation instinct,” Lu Han sniffs.

“Should have slept with him,” Jongin says, and pats Lu Han’s shoulder. “Oh wait, I forgot. You already have. Too bad it wasn’t recently.”

“Jongin,” Yifan frowns.

“Jongin,” Lu Han echoes, in mockery.

“Wow, have I overstayed my welcome or what? Bye.”

“That’s not—” Yifan starts with a sigh.

But Jongin teleports away.

 

—

The first blast blows a hole through the brick wall of Yifan’s apartment building ten feet wide and a story tall. Wood and brick and glass spray in on them from all directions, only Sehun thinking fast enough to get a wall of wind up around them so they aren’t squashed to death. It’s only when the dust settles that he moves the wall of air over the hole itself, swirling thick and fast and keeping anything on the outside from barreling through it, at least for a time.

Yifan’s swearing. “Lu Han!”

“It’s a whole squad from NIS!”

“Changmin?” Junmyeon asks. He places a hand on Sehun’s shoulder, probably for support, but a moment later, there’s water swirling in the wind so fast, Jongin knows it will slice apart anyone that might be strong enough to get through.

“No.” Lu Han frowns. “I’ve never felt these minds before; it’s someone else.” But that doesn’t exempt Changmin and Yunho from being the ones that sent them.

Yixing’s healing a slash across Baekhyun’s forehead, blood dripping everywhere. Most everyone else is alright, and Jongin desperately wants to pop outside to get a grasp of the situation. But he knows better; they probably moved some things around in preparation of that, and if he teleports, he would most likely end up injuring himself.

Minseok moves to the wall of water and wind. “Let me make this ice.”

“That won’t hold them for long,” Yifan warns.

“Long enough for us to retaliate in kind.” Junmyeon nods. “Do it.”

It’s only seconds before the water freezes, ice several feet thick and stretching across the gap in the wall in the form of dangerous-looking icicles.

There’s at least three dozen men, Lu Han tells him, with enough artillery to level the entire apartment building and take them hostage. If they can manage to get a hold of any of them. They aren’t the Twelve for nothing.

“They’re getting ready to blast through the ice,” Lu Han relays.

“What do we need to get out of here?” Junmyeon asks.

“Zitao, Jongdae,” Yifan directs, “come with me. We’re going to empty the safe. Jongin, take Baekhyun to the roof so he can blind them for a little while. Chanyeol, you’re in charge of blowing their shit up.”

“We’ll keep them from getting inside,” Junmyeon says, a swirl of water circling his fingers.

“What about getting out of here?”

“I’ll make us a tunnel from the basement,” Kyungsoo says. “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

“I’ll go with him,” Lu Han says, “and I’ll give you all a heads up when it’s ready.”

A rumble from outside sets them scattering. Jongin grabs ahold of Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and in a moment, they’re on the rooftop, squinting in the sunlight. They peer over the edge cautiously, Jongin swearing when he sees that all the roads to the building are blocked off by numerous amounts of military. The firepower they’re packing is no joke.

“Blind them first,” Chanyeol says, rubbing his hands together, “and then I’ll tear into those tanks.”

“Can we get them to all point in the same direction? It’ll be easier to blind them and take less effort and concentration.”

“Yeah, I can get them to point at me,” Jongin says.

He’s not worried, as he’s done it before, but his hand shakes a little as he stands. There’s something different about this time; there’s more at stake now than ever. Baekhyun gives him a smile, and it’s enough to keep Jongin from throwing up.

He lifts himself up onto the edge of the building, balancing carefully. “Chanyeol, explode something so they see me.”

The rocks a few feet away do just that, fire and heat bursting forth and making Jongin sweat. It gets the reaction he’d wanted, and in a second, most of the face and guns below are pointing up at him.

And then he jumps, falling one story, two, knowing face and gun are trained on him. A second before he hits the ground, he teleports himself, and there’s a flash of blinding light as he slams back down next to Baekhyun.

He looks back over the edge in time to see Chanyeol direct a stream of fire at one tanker, and then another, and in a moment, half the block is on fire. “Nice,” Baekhyun comments.

_TUNNEL IS DONE_ , Lu Han booms into their heads, and he sends Jongin a mental picture of it.

Chanyeol sends one final blast of heat, writing in fire onto the side of a wooden building next to a flaming tanker:  _MAYBE NEXT TIME SUCKERS_  . Jongin and Baekhyun are laughing even as they teleport down onto Kyungsoo’s neatly packed earth floor.

“What did you do?” Junmyeon asks, frowning at their grins.

“You don’t want to know,” Lu Han says, but he’s smiling too and high-fives Chanyeol as he pushes hair out of his face.

It takes a few minutes for them to make it down, Yifan and Zitao the final two to arrive, bags slung over their shoulders, no doubt filled with the contents of Yifan’s safe. Minseok and Jongdae take a few each, securing them around their backs and Yifan gives a particularly heavy looking one to Chanyeol.

“Are there  _bricks_  in here?” he demands.

“Gold bricks,” Yifan says. “Figured you’d be less likely to be bowled over by them than Junmyeon. Are we ready?”

“I’ve started towards the safe house,” Kyungsoo says. “I’ll close this up behind us as we go.”

“I’ll go ahead with Baekhyun to the restaurant,” Jongin offers. Thankfully, Junmyeon had brought the Stones with him before leaving the restaurant, but there’s still a lot of cash and jewels stashed away in the former brick oven that should be secured.

He doesn’t wait for Junmyeon’s nod, though he sees it in his peripheral vision as he grasps Baekhyun’s hand, and a second later, they land in the back room of the restaurant. They can hear the business bustling up front, and that’s a relief. Hopefully the NIS are cautious enough to not blast through a room full of innocent patrons. “Come on,” Jongin says.

It’ll take the others awhile to reach the safe house—an underground bunker near the ocean that Kyungsoo and Junmyeon had built years ago—but Jongin and Baekhyun move quickly anyhow, shoving the valuables into sacks in record time. Baekhyun informs the staff upfront that they are to keep the restaurant running, even if none of the regular staff show for a few days (weeks, Jongin thinks, wincing.) Their Light Stone had really taken to bossing people around, and Jongin’s surprised as the staff promise not to panic if they don’t see their bosses for awhile.

It’s a little bit of a relief, though Jongin feels a twinge of guilt because he’s sure that eventually, the restaurant will be overrun. He doesn’t expect Junmyeon or Kyungsoo or any of them to come back. Not ever.

The safe house, when they arrive, is dusty from disuse. There aren’t a lot of rooms; a kitchen, a living area, and several bedrooms scattered out towards the back. “We need to claim a big one,” Jongin tells Baekhyun, “before Yifan gets here and banishes us to the couch.”

They’ll have to share it with one or two other people, but if they play their cards right, Jongin thinks he can get Zitao and maybe Sehun; that will be tolerable, at least. More tolerable than Lu Han and Yifan, anyway. Nothing like an ex-boyfriend and control freak to ruin the mood.

“How long will it take them to get here?”

“Long enough.” Jongin shrugs. “They're a few miles away, and Kyungsoo can only tunnel so fast. They have to go around the subways and foundations. Yixing will keep his energy replenished as long as he can.”

“So we should just…wait?” Baekhyun asks, “You aren’t supposed to teleport them?”

“Can’t,” Jongin says, “because I don’t know what the tunnel looks like. I will if Lu Han sends me a picture, but otherwise, yes, we wait.”

Jongin’s not a complete idiot. He knows exactly what Baekhyun’s asking besides  _will we be alone_ , but he’s not sure what to do about it. He tries to make himself busy, putting away the valuables in the safe house’s vault, taking stock of the food in the refrigerator, thinking maybe they should make a grocery run so someone can cook later on in the evening.

But he finds himself drawn back to the bedroom, watching Baekhyun practicing with his Light, throwing colors and patterns up onto the ceiling with some of the sunlight filtering down from the tiny window up by the ceiling.

Baekhyun smiles when we sees Jongin watching, and Baekhyun crooks a finger, light swirling around the tip for a moment, hued pink. “Come and catch me.”

Jongin stretches out on the bed, not sure what he’s thinking when his shirt rides on his stomach and he doesn’t pull it back down. He doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun’s eyes are drawn to his skin. “You’re a jerk for making me chase you all over the world,” Jongin tells him, and has to shut his eyes when Baekhyun’s finger traces the edge of his ribs.

“You’re a jerk for sleeping with Changmin.”

Jongin frowns. “That was for—”

“I know,” Baekhyun says. “You’re still a jerk.”

“But we needed—”

“You’re a jerk.”

Baekhyun slides forward on his side, finger pointing in Jongin’s face. The pink color disappears as Baekhyun wets his lips.

“I’m a jerk,” Jongin agrees, eyes fluttering shut as Baekhyun’s fingers thread into Jongin’s hair and pull his mouth to Baekhyun’s, the lights flickering across the walls dimming as Baekhyun loses his concentration and then disappearing altogether as Baekhyun rolls onto his back and sighs into Jongin’s mouth and their lips slide slick against each other.

“You don’t need to get DNA from me ,” Baekhyun says as Jongin nips at his ear, his jaw, kissing against his throat and his collarbone. His skin is so pale, so delicate. Jongin wonders how he’s managed to keep it like this; maybe it’s just the light.

“No,” Jongin agrees, letting Baekhyun tug his shirt off, “but even if I did, it wouldn’t be why I want you.” Though he has to wonder, if he had tried kissing Baekhyun instead of chasing him, would Jongin have been able to convince Baekhyun to be on their side sooner?

Their clothes come off piece by piece, and Jongin discovers that Baekhyun  _really_  likes to be bitten, loves hickeys sucked into every part of his skin, and the further down Jongin goes, the louder Baekhyun moans, the harsher he gasps.

This is different than it had been with Changmin. Changmin had been sexy, had been very good at reciprocating Jongin’s blow job and getting him off, but Baekhyun—Jongin’s infinitely more attracted to Baekhyun, to the sounds he makes, the whimpers and the stuttering of his breath, to the way his fingers curl on Jongin’s shoulders and then drag through Jongin’s hair as Jongin takes Baekhyun into his mouth and deep throats him.

Jongin has to grind against the bed to relieve some of the pressure on his own cock, moaning a little as Baekhyun pulls him back up to kiss him again, licking at the corner of his mouth.

Jongin has no idea where Baekhyun’d managed to produce lube since they’d only just gotten here, but it’s pressed into his hands, and gods, he can’t say no. Not with Baekhyun’s fingers sliding down Jongin’s dick as he thrusts his tongue into Jongin’s mouth and ok. Ok, Jongin gets it. He wants it too.

Kyungsoo’d better take a really long time tunneling the others over, Jongin thinks, as he slicks his fingers up with lube and curls them into Baekhyun’s body, entranced as Baekhyun arches off the bed with a shout, because honestly, Jongin could do this all day long.

 

—

 

A extraordinarily loud wolf whistle echoes in Jongin’s head, and he shoots upright with a start. He takes a minute to realize it’s Lu Han, who is close enough to the safe house to have read his mind and discover exactly what had happened. Baekhyun groans into a pillow.

_Dude_ , Lu Han says into Jongin’s mind, _we’re close. Better get cleaned up. Yifan’s in a foul mood._.

_Fuck you_.

He ignores Lu Han’s retort and instead kisses Baekhyun until he’s smiling, wiping at his eyes. He pulls a little more sunlight into the room, lighting up their skin. They look a wreck, and so does the bed, but Jongin thinks it’s alright. At least no one else will want to come in here, and he’s totally okay with that.

“We’d better get up.”

Lu Han relays that they’ve got about twenty minutes, and they use ten to rinse themselves off, getting a little distracted with their lips, but they emerge clean and start filling pitchers of water. The others are going to be thirsty. Jongin’s in the middle of pulling out food (because they’ll be hungry as well) when the earth beneath them trembles.

The wall of the living room starts to shake, and Jongin watches in fascination as the entire thing moves apart like it has hinges, swinging back to let the rest of the Twelve stumble inside, dirty and sweating. Kyungsoo follows in the rear, dirt moving behind him, packing in tight, and the concrete and earth wall slides backwards, not a speck of dust out of place.

Baekhyun whistles.

Kyungsoo collapses, Jongin just barely managing to dash forward and catch him before his head cracks open, and they have to scrub his brains off the floor.

“Just think. Once we can bind the Twelve of us together, you won’t even break a sweat doing that,” Baekhyun tells him cheerily, and Kyungsoo groans before passing out altogether. Jongin lifts him easily.

“Better find a nice, clean bed for him,” Lu Han cackles, swinging an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Want some help?”

“No, thank you,” Jongin says icily. “I’m capable of carrying him all by myself. Stay away from me.”

“Why does Lu Han have his crazy face on?” Yifan asks. He’s still brushing a few stray bits of dirt clinging to his jacket.

“Oh,” Lu Han says, abandoning Baekhyun to cling to Yifan’s arm, “here, let me tell you all about it.”

_And that’s my cue_ , Jongin thinks, making a beeline for another room before Yifan can start up a lecture.

 

—

 

After enduring dirty looks from both Yifan and Junmyeon, Jongin decides it’s high time to make himself useful. The apartment and all their things had been destroyed, courtesy, Lu Han tells them, of a trigger-happy general screaming until he was blue in the face. It’s all in a pile of rubble, Lu Han had said. Jongin had been too pissed off to cry, though not enough to be blind to the way Zitao had sort of sniffled into his sleeve.

Enough is enough.

He drags Lu Han away from Sehun in order to find out where Yunho is.

“Jongin,” Lu Han coos, “what are you planning?”

“Can you give me a picture of where he is or not?”

“Are you trying to fix my mistakes?”

“I’m trying to put an end to this.”

Lu Han laughs and gives Jongin a very vivid image of an apartment. “It’s Yunho’s. He’s with Changmin and will soon be very drunk.”

Jongin considers kissing him but thinks better of it. It would only reach Baekhyun’s ears and make him very upset. And that’s the last thing Jongin wants, though as he tells Baekhyun of his plan, quietly, while pretending to make out in the bathroom, that’s exactly what happens.

“I should come with you,” Baekhyun says, pouting, “for backup.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Jongin says. “Lu Han will be watching me. But just in case, if I’m not back in two hours, raise the alarm, alright?”

They do kiss then, light around them fading as Baekhyun’s concentration slips a little. “Be safe,” he admonishes.

Jongin grins, and then disappears.

 

—

 

Changmin notices him first, hand freezing halfway to his glass and twitching a moment, like he’s deciding on whether or not he should reach for his gun. Though it doesn’t look like he has one on him; in just jeans and a t-shirt, Changmin’s more casual than Jongin’s ever seen him.

“What?” Yunho is asking. He turns a bit, lips hovering over the edge of a tumblr, and when he sees Jongin leaning against the wall, nearly drops the glass, the alcohol splashing onto his fingers. Jongin can smell it even from six feet away.

“Why would you do that?” Jongin asks.

Yunho puts his drink down.

“Kai,” Changmin starts.

“You destroyed my  _home_. If you’re still trying to convince me to be on your side, that was not the way to do it.”

“This coming from the Teleporter Who Robs Banks?”

“Yunho,” Changmin’s voice sounds a little like a warning. He bites his lip a moment before standing. “Want a drink?”

“No,” Jongin crosses his arms, trying to channel Kai through his anger, “I want an explanation.”

“That wasn’t us.”

“Oh, bullshit. Everything the NIS does is connected to you. You  _are_  the fucking NIS, and everyone knows it.”

“But not this time. We do have people over our heads, Kai, and they did this against our better judgement and wishes. And I’m sorry for that. I am.” Changmin takes another step. He does look desperate, eyebrows bent in on each other and teeth biting into his lips. “It wasn’t us.”

“Why do you care so much?” Jongin asks. “Why are you trying so hard to get me to believe you?”

“Do you have all Twelve Stones?” Yunho asks instead of answering.

Jongin considers lying, thinks it’s definitely not a smart idea to say yes, yes, Lu Han, and I found them all behind your back, but when he opens his mouth, “yes” is exactly what comes out.

“How did you find them?” Yunho asks.

Jongin shrugs. “Lu Han, how else? Yifan and Junmyeon are the ones that kept us all together.”

He probably shouldn’t have said their real names, Jongin thinks, but oh well. It can’t be undone, and by the way things are headed—if they really  _hadn’t_  sent those guards after them—then maybe letting the identities slip won’t be that much of a bother.

“If you really think you can pull it off, if you think you can tie the Twelve together, then I will give you my DNA.”

Changmin doesn’t look the least bit surprised when Yunho says this, and Jongin wonders if maybe they’d been talking about it over the half-empty bottle of whiskey.

“That’s what you really came for, isn’t it?” Yunho asks.

It is. Jongin wasn’t exactly sure of his plan, grab a hair, get some skin underneath his fingernails, and hopefully not die in the process. Teleportation against Yunho and Changmin weren’t ever good odds, so Teleportation against Fire and Light is at best dismal.

But now Yunho’s offering.

“Why?” Jongin asks. “Why give it to me, after all this time?”

“Because I lost,” Yunho admits. “You’ve got Twelve Stones eleven DNA serums. You don’t want to be on our side so…try it. Try and see if you can bind yourselves together.”

“Besides,” Changmin says, “if you fail, then there will be another Twelve for us to find.”

And isn’t that a comforting thought?

“Why…why did you want us so badly?” Jongin asks.

“To fix what we fucked up,” Changmin says, “to do what we were supposed to do correctly. But you’ve already accomplished more than we ever did, so at this point,” he shrugs, “we can only let you try.”

Yunho reaches into his pocket, pulling out a vial and tossing it. Jongin catches it almost blindly. “You were waiting for me.”

“Lu Han told me you were coming. Though I didn’t think he meant  _immediately_ , otherwise I would not have been so…drunk.” His smile is rueful.

“Lu Han is a bastard.”

“He’s the one that convinced me to do this,” Yunho sighs. “Damn Telepaths. I hate them all.”

“Not all of them,” Changmin hums.

Yunho sighs. “You’d better go, Kim Jongin. If you need anything, we’ll help. You have my word.”

He waves a hand before disappearing into another room, bottle of whiskey clutched tight in his hand.

“Jongin,” Changmin starts, “was—when you slept with me. Was it really just for my DNA?”

He looks just this side of desperate, like he doesn’t want Jongin to say yes, and Jongin feels a twinge of guilt. But then he thinks of Baekhyun and his fingers and the way they crook when he wants Jongin to do something, the way they tremble when Jongin has him pressed up against a wall. He thinks of Baekhyun’s smile and the way he lights up, literally, when he’s happy, and the way he sighs into Jongin’s shoulder, fits into the spaces of Jongin’s body like no one else ever has.

“It was,” Jongin says, “I’m sorry.”

He leaves before he can see the disappointment.

Junmyeon is spitting when Jongin teleports back to the safe house, and Yifan’s face is so red, Jongin swears he’s going to have a heart attack any second. But arms come around Jongin’s middle (Baekhyun’s, Jongin thinks, happiness spreading through him,) and he finds he could care less about anything except that. Light shifts at the edges of his vision, sparkling happily.

“I cannot fucking  _believe_ ,” Yifan starts.

“When Baekhyun said you’d gone to—” Junmyeon says at the same time.

Jongin holds out the vial, stopping them mid-sentence. “Yunho’s DNA.” He turns to where Lu Han’s fixing his hair in a mirror, grinning at himself. “And you. You could have told me they knew I was coming.”

“But that would have been no fun,” Lu Han says. Baekhyun’s arms nearly keep Jongin from breathing.

“Lu Han,” Yifan starts, as Junmyeon looks about ready to cry.

“Oh, stop. This is all very silly. We have Twelve Stones and Twelve People and all the DNA. Now let’s do something about it.”

 

—

 

“You’re pathetic,” Yunho tells Changmin, once Kai is gone. “You shouldn’t have a broken heart over him.”

“It was really good sex.” And alright, so he had harbored a bit of a crush. Kai had been a breath of fresh air in his dull life , a point of light since the first moment when Changmin had discovered his own power of Light. He’d given Changmin a reason to live again, a purpose after losing his own. Though, in retrospect, perhaps Changmin fell in love with that , rather than with Kai himself.

“We need a vacation,” Yunho swirls his glass.

“A long one,” Changmin agrees, and sighed as Yunho’s arm came around his shoulder. “Any place in mind?”

Yunho gave him a thoughtful stare and somehow, Changmin knew exactly what his friend was going to say.

“I was thinking of Bora Bora.”

Changmin finds himself smiling. “Sounds perfect,” he admits, and they drink to it.

 

—

 

Jongin feels like a new person. The effects of the binding spell had boosted his powers a hundredfold, and to some extent, had made him able to sense the other eleven and their powers as well. He sizzled with strength; it was like a drug.

Having their boundaries expanded also meant having control issues. Chanyeol left flaming footprints as he walked around the living room, and Junmyeon accidentally doused the entire safe house in water while trying to put them out. But there were also new discoveries: Minseok could freeze  _anything_ , not just water, could crystallize with a single touch of a finger. When they woke one morning to find a couch floating in mid air, they discovered Lu Han could move just about anything with his mind and that he no longer needed an object to focus his telepathy onto a person. He could just  _find them_.

Everyone’s powers had developed in ways they never could have imagined.

And they have so much work to do. There are areas soaked with radiation that need to be cleaned up and parts of the world outside of the Walls so desolate and broken that even with all their powers combined, it will takes years to fix. There is so much wrong that needs to be right.

But they can do it, Jongin knows. It will be some time before they start, until they have a handle on themselves not just as part of the Twelve, but as a group of friends. That is okay too, though. They’ll get through it all.

And if not, Jongin thinks, at least he has Baekhyun.

“Glad I caught you,” Jongin whispers into his ear one night, when he finds he can’t sleep.

“Excuse you,” Baekhyun grumbles, shoving him, “you did not catch me. I could have gotten away any time.”

“Yeah right,” Jongin shoots back, and finds himself unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of their room. “Ow.”

“Don’t piss me off. I can totally take you in a fight.”

Jongin rights himself, stumbling back a few steps to stare angrily at the bed. He doesn’t like being made a fool, and he spins on his feet, huffing, pretending to be suddenly interested in the hideous painting on the wall.

“Kim Jongin,” Baekhyun says.

Jongin turns. Baekhyun’s kneeling on the bed, bare chest glistening in the low light from the moon outside, and he’s got a finger pointed in Jongin’s face. He’s beautiful. The finger crooks, the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth twitching because he knows. He knows Jongin can’t refuse him.

Jongin could fight it, could wage a war of words neither of them would mean, and have a playful argument just for the sake of it, for the pleasure of riling Baekhyun up. But that would mean five, ten, fifteen minutes away from him, out of his arms and his light. Honestly, Jongin doesn’t want that. Not ever.

Baekhyun’s off the bed halfway to the door. “Come and catch me,” Baekhyun says, “if you’re so confident.”

Jongin manages to grab Baekhyun’s fingers before he can get out the door. He thinks of several things he could say, all of them cliche and terrible, and he can only imagine what Lu Han would say if he heard them. But Baekhyun leans in before Jongin can open his mouth and presses a kiss to his lips. “Admit it,” Jongin whispers, “you’re super happy.”

“Unbelievably,” Baekhyun nods.

Jongin smiles and lets Baekhyun pull him back down onto the bed.

 


End file.
